


unexpected

by schwanenkoenigin



Category: Fifth Harmony (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anxiety, Denial of Feelings, F/F, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-01-01 01:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 27,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12145383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schwanenkoenigin/pseuds/schwanenkoenigin
Summary: Bachelor AU.Camila is a contestant on the show. But, instead of finding the Bachelor himself cute, she has more of a crush on fellow contestant Lauren. She doesn't admit it, though. Especially not to herself.





	1. CHAPTER 1 || first night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so excited for this!!!!! hope you enjoy it too omg. the chapters won't be too long tho because i suck and what is english but yeah. (i'm posting this on [wattpad](https://www.wattpad.com/story/123321030-unexpected-camren) as well)
> 
> THANK YOU TO MY [FRIEND](/users/captainseattle) FOR PLANNING THIS WITH ME I LOVE YOU

She's dreaded this for weeks.

Okay, well, maybe 'dreaded' is the wrong expression. She's just been– been really anxious. For the past weeks. Months, even. The point is: she hasn't looked forward to it. When everyone else probably has. Since, you know, they're– she's– probably, definitely– going to meet the man of her life and– marry him. Maybe. That's what her mom had kept telling her, at least.

Part of her likes the unexpected, yes, like fighting for a man's affections you haven't ever met– but it's the tiniest part of her. And she's only five feet tall.

Her mom is the main reason why she's doing this.  _This_. Sitting in a car. Looking out of the window. Seeing beautiful landscapes.

Being nervous to a point where she cannot tell if she's going to throw up  _in_  the car or _only_  once they've got _off_ it.

The only thing that sort of calms her nerves is the sweet woman sitting next to her. Ally, she'd introduced herself. Being the awkward mess she is, she would have never taken matters into her own hands and told her – Ally – her name. But the other woman had.

And Camila's glad about that because it means talking to someone. Calming her nerves. Maybe. Making a friend, too. Or– something of the sort. There's not really any possibility for them to be actual friends, though because, if anything, they'll be competitors, fighting for a man, both of them, and Camila doesn't think that that could be fun. Doesn't think the situation could gain her friends.

So they're more likely going to end up being enemies.  _Frenemies_.

(They do always tell you that you're supposed to keep your friends close and your enemies closer.)

God, in case you couldn't tell, Camila's a complete mess. She can't think straight. Can't finish one single thought. And her nervousness doesn't decrease. Not even when Ally puts a hand on her thigh reassuringly. Not even when she looks into the woman's eyes and sees that there's nothing but happiness in them. Not even when she's told, "It's going to be okay. Just breathe. We're all going to be fine."

Yeah, no, it doesn't help.

If she's honest, Camila already kind of hates the girl for being so nice. She won't ever be able to see her as a competitor she has to eliminate, out-flirt, now. Something like that, anyway.

She literally jumps when the car comes to a halt. She's been stuck between trying to tell herself Ally can't be a friend and watching the fields and hills of France.

"You alright?" Ally asks.

Camila tries telling her cells, her brain, her heart to calm down again, one last time before it gets real, but she realizes that she really, really cannot do that. Nothing works.

She's fairly certain she's going to faint soon.

"You look pale," Ally observes from next to her. She tries taking Camila's hand but– Camila can't. She yanks it away. It's not meant to be rude. Just–

Not being able to say a word, Camila just blinks a few times, swallows, trying to get rid of her dry throat, and then nods. Hoping she can somehow get across that she's, indeed, alright. Okay, she's not really, but nobody can do anything about it, so–

"Ladies, come on! Let's get you all together!" a voice says from somewhere. Camila can't identify who's said the words. Neither does she know what direction it's come from.

A second later, they're both dragged away. Camila knows it has to be towards the ocean. She can't process anything, though.

Not until they arrive at a large beach, and she feels the sandy breeze in her face.

It smells like salt water here. And only upon sensing where exactly she is – the  _Atlantic_  coast – she snaps back into reality and takes in her surroundings.

There's a lot of sand. Obviously. Water, too. Somewhere in the distance. It's a nice shade of turquoise, she guesses, although right now, it has some orange and yellow to it. It must be the setting sun.

In the middle of the beach is some sort of– what is it, a lounge? There's a small staircase that leads down into the relatively small rectangular shaped space. Everything is white. It's  _blinding_. Even this late.

And there's– a bar? Right at the edge. The waiters, bartenders, must be able to see the ocean from where they pour drinks.

There are couches, chairs, tables–

And there's alcohol, too. Thank God–

Camila is dragged towards one of the bigger tables in the middle.

There's– oh, yeah, there are about twenty girls occupying the space around it. Camila thinks she might actually throw up on the spot. She wishes it was because she's car sick. But it's not. She's just– God, she's so nervous because– she stops and takes a closer look at the women in front of her, around her, as she stands there– they're all incredibly gorgeous and– how the heck is she supposed to compete with any of them?

She blinks a few times. Stares at–

There's one woman in particular to catch her attention. Camila doesn't know why. It's just that– she somehow stands out from the rest. With her long, black hair, her beautiful white dress and– wow. Camila swallows. Almost gasps involuntarily. (Who does that?) Her eyes are so incredibly green, so clear, so–

"Honey, don't you want champagne?"

Camila jumps again. Which– yay her, what a way to make everyone notice you. First, it was just Ally, but now– yeah. Very  _Camila_  of her to embarrass herself, make a fool of herself within the first five minutes.

Her mishap has most probably been caught on camera, too. And she knows the audience loves stuff like this. Contestants being weird and awkward. Almost as entertaining as the eternally ongoing fights between them that are likely to fill most of the screentime later on.

When she looks up – her face still red and her brain still telling her it'd be better if the ground swallowed her up instantly – she's met with the questioning gaze of one of the– servers? Waiters? The one who asked her if she wanted wine, anyway. Probably.

Trying to play it cool – which she knows isn't working but, hey, she can always try – she confidently says, "Sure, yeah!" She internally groans. She surely sounded like a– God, she needs that alcohol.

Before anyone brings her her glass, she looks at the ocean for a while. She can hear the waves from where she's standing, which is– wow. It's strange, and it's lovely, and she never wants to leave this place ever again.

(Except if she embarrasses herself one more time. Then she could potentially be talked into leaving. Or maybe she'd–)

The woman she noticed earlier is still sitting at a table all alone. Her legs are crossed, her posture is straight, and the wind makes her hair appear messy, somehow, but Camila swears it makes her even more attractive. Her slim fingers are wrapped around a cocktail glass. Her nails are painted black, Camila notices. Her back rests against the back of the comfy looking sofa.

The candles and lights around them illuminate the woman's features. Her dress. Her hair. It's getting darker by the second, it seems, and the woman is becoming more  _beautiful_  by the second. She reminds Camila of–

"Your champagne," someone whispers behind her. It's a little gross, and Camila almost knocks the glass the waiter is holding over as she quickly turns around to face him. She apologizes, but he smiles and leaves. Thank God. She doesn't really want to see his face right now. Instead, she wants to watch– look at– what's her name? What's the gorgeous stranger's name?

And, more importantly, where has she gone? Camila looks around, but can't find her again. She's probably meddling with the rest. As should Camila be. But she isn't. She's not really one to do that – go out and drink with others, that is – as she's not an extrovert at all. But still, she should probably  _really_  go and see what the others are up to. What– what  _she_ 's up to.

Why is Camila so interested in  _her_ , anyway? It's a weird kind of fascination.

She freezes for a minute. She can't exactly come up with an explanation as to why she's looked at the other woman like– like–

"Checking out the competition?" someone laughs. Camila is wrapped in a sort of side-hug immediately after the words have left the person's mouth. She squeals.

But the word competition makes her think for a second. Could  _that_  be it? That the woman is  _so_  attractive that Camila is scared she will be unbeatable competition? Surely, that must be it. It can't be anything else.

Camila looks up at– what the– "Sorry to scare you," a blonde woman is looking at her through a pair of brown eyes. She's a lot taller than her, and she's grinning, which makes her incredibly intimidating, and she– "You there?"

"Yeah, no–" Camila shakes her head to clear her thoughts, "yeah. I'm okay, sorry." What's going on? Why is she still so goddamn nervous? Now that she's here, one would think–

"Could've fooled me, with the way you– never mind."

The way she what? Camila frowns.

The woman takes Camila's hand, then, and leads them to a close-by table. Once they're sitting, and not awkwardly hugging anymore, Camila feels a lot more comfortable. She even manages to put on a small smile.

It makes her counterpart's grin even bigger. Dinah slaps Camila's upper arm jokingly and exclaims, "There she is!"

"Yeah, here I am," Camila confirms awkwardly. She rubs the spot that the woman has just touched, but eventually, her smile grows wider, too.

"I'm Dinah! But you can call me anything you like." A wink follows. Is it supposed to be teasing? A  _joke_? Probably.

Even though she finds the line ridiculous, Camila can't help the laugh that escapes her mouth at the words. She's starting to like the woman in front of her already.

 _Dinah_.

Wow, first Ally, now Dinah. Way to go. Making friends in a competition in which you're supposed to fight each other until only one is left. But, well, she guesses they could just fight  _for_  the Bachelor, not  _each other_ , right?

What's making a friend or two? There are enough enemies left.

"I'm Camila."

For the rest of the night, she talks to Dinah. And to Ally, occasionally. And as the time passes, as they're starting to drink more, Camila finds herself turning her head to catch glimpses of black hair and a white dress over and over again. She wonders, every now and then, why she so desperately wants to see the mysterious woman again, and why she isn't this curious about Dinah or Ally.

But, yeah, again, maybe it's just that the woman is exceptionally pretty. And Camila could never compete with her.

That must be it. That's it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you're just as excited as i am sncjdjcbckcm


	2. CHAPTER 2 || meeting him (sort of)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love my bestie [captainseattle](/users/captainseattle) jsyk. thank you for wasting two hours of your life to plan this pathetic piece of trash with me

The bed is incredibly comfortable. It's more comfortable than any other bed she's ever been in before. And she's been in a lot of beds. Not that she's slept with a lot of people, just– she and her parents used to travel around a lot, and she can't even say how many hotels they've been in before. Hundreds, maybe. She absolutely doesn't know.

So, yeah, she can indeed say that this is a huge thing. Finding a bed softer and a mattress silkier than any other she's ever been on before.

Which is why she doesn't want to get up. She wants to lie here forever. Wants to feel the warmth of the sheets against her back, wants to roll around in bed all day. Just because there's so much space in it. God, she doesn't think she wants to meet the bachelor anymore. Not when there's such a big bed right here.

And a big house. A mansion, really. No _house_ is this big. None.

And they're all waiting for her to spend all her time in them. If only she could stay in France for the rest of her life. Because she definitely would. 

She doesn't– she doesn't even need  _him_. Now, if only she could at least remember his name she'd– is it Shaun? Shane? She racks her brain, but she can't recall his stupid name. She's sure she's read it somewhere. Maybe Dinah even mentioned it last night. Stupid memory.

But, yeah, the point remains: she only needs this bed, this _room_ , and maybe the sea to be happy. Hearing the waves crash on the shore, seeing the palm trees sway in the wind... yeah, she'd be content with only that forever. She could ask someone to carry her bed out onto the beach. She'd have all in one. Great–

Her alarm beeps next to her. She groans. She almost forgot about– everything. Reaching for her phone, she forgets the gap between the bed and the small nightstand, though, and before she knows what's happening, she's lying on the floor. Her head and back hurt. She thinks that that might not be good seeing as she has to make a good first impression – she _is_ after all here to win a man over, even if she doesn't know his name – but maybe a shower and some painkillers will help. She finally grabs her phone and turns off the alarm. 

It's nine. _Definitely_ time to get ready.

She takes the quick shower she promised herself, and the pain in her body subsides as soon as the hot water meets her skin. She wishes she could stay in longer. But, unfortunately, she has something to get ready for. Since she doesn't see any of the girls she shares her room with – one of which is Dinah – she decides they must be out already. Typical, really. That Camila is the last to show up.

She randomly picks out an outfit – a black skirt and a white top should be alright, she guesses; she doesn't want to look shabby, but she doesn't want to be overdressed, either – and puts it on. It only takes her about fifteen minutes and a lot of cursing. The goddamn skirt is a mess. So is the blouse. But she gets it done, somehow, and looks at herself in the mirror. 

"Nice," she says, and jokingly pretends to check herself out. "You come here often?" 

"Not exactly, but I could use a drink," Dinah's voice comes from behind her.

Camila almost has a heart attack. God, of course she's going to get caught in such an embarrassing moment. She's glad no cameras are around. She'd be screwed. 

Dinah, in the meantime, holds her stomach laughing. Nobody can blame her, though, seeing your roommate throwing lazy pick up lines at their reflection is, admittedly, most probably one of the funnier sights. "I– oh, my God, Mila, you– you should have– seen you– and your reaction–" The words she's trying to – coherently – say come out breathlessly. Which is no wonder, considering how hard she's laughing. 

Rolling her eyes affectionately at the taller girl, Camila realizes her heartbeat has slowed down. Good. She says, "God, I hate you."

"The name's DJ. But, yeah, you, too," Dinah shoots back challengingly. Once she's stopped her laughter. (For the most part, anyway.) When she approaches Camila and leans against the counter next to the mirror, she's still grinning. "So, you coming?"

"Of course," Camila replies, confused. "Why wouldn't I? I want to get to know him just as much as everyone else does! I mean, hey, didn't we all fly across the pond for hours just to see this gorgeous man? I mean, obviously I'm coming. _Along_. I'm coming along. With you. All of you. To meet– to meet him. The man we're supposed to meet. The bachelor. Who the show is named after." Her words come out in one long ramble. Why would Dinah even ask such a question? And why is she– why are her eyebrows raised? Why is her mouth twisted in such a weird– is it a smirk? What _is_ this expression?

"Wow, damn. Calm down there. I was joking. But alright, Camila Cabello, you've just proven that you're weird as heck and I freaking love you. And that's that. So let's get this show on the road, shall we?" Dinah wiggles her eyebrows, winks at her, and shakes her ass for effect.

It makes Camila a little uncomfortable, truth be told, but she still chuckles. Rolls her eyes. Follows Dinah out of the room.

The walk is spent silent but, internally, Camila is freaking out. Again. She wonders what this Shane – or is it Zane? – looks like. She's going to find out in a few minutes, and she's– she's so curious. What's his hair like? His face? Does he have a beard? What's his eye color? Questions, questions, and a few more questions, none of them answered yet.

Something inside her wonders what the other women are wearing. Something similar to her outfit? To Dinah's? Dinah – who's wearing a long red dress? 

Her mind immediately and inevitably wanders to the mysterious woman from last night. Will she be wearing the same white dress? Part of her hopes so because it looked downright incredible. The other part of her hopes she gets to see her in something else. But, to be real, she, like Camila, is probably not wearing the same thing twice. 

They arrive at the venue eventually. Dinah lets her know by pressing her elbow into her side. It's only been half a day, but Dinah already knows how lost in thought Camila gets, and Camila is eternally grateful for her – dare she day _friend_? – to save her from another big embarrassment. Especially here, with TV cameras all around.

Camila gets yanked back into reality. The place they're in is gorgeous. Palm trees all around them. A small house has been built in what honestly looks like the middle of the jungle – but is probably just a normal forest – looking somewhat like a conservatory. All glass. All fancy. 

The couches, all white leather.

Wooden chairs and tables, painted white as well. 

On one of the sofas – the woman from last night. Sitting in the exact same way again. Legs crossed, martini in hand. Camila tries not to stare but– the woman is too breathtaking. Her hair is straightened today. Her green eyes brought to life by black eyeshadow and mascara. Camila's look glides downward. She's wearing a black, figure-hugging dress today, and it shows an ample amount of cleavage. It's not too much. Just enough. The woman suddenly turns her head, looks Camila directly in the eyes. Her smile is something else entirely. Camila thinks her world night stop turning for a second. She practically loses herself in the pools of green, smiling to herself like an idiot. What a sight. She's too intent on ingraining the image in front of her into her brain, not noticing how the woman smirks at her. Raises an eyebrow. 

Camila soon realizes, however, that she might be on the verge of drooling. But then again – why would she drool over her? A woman? A _competitor_? It's ridiculous, and as she tears her gaze away, she doesn't notice how disappointed the woman looks at the lack of– let's say _being appreciated_ from afar.

Everyone turns their attention to the man who suddenly enters. 

The cameramen shuffle around to make sure they get a good shot of everyone's reaction.

Camila, for her part, just blinks. She doesn't really hear any of what the man has to say. Instead, she looks him over. Again and again. He has– he's tall, she guesses. Has nice hair; it's blonde. Dyed. It looks kind of soft. Even with all the gel. His face makes him look like a fifteen-year-old boy, honestly, but his beard saves him. Sort of. All in all– there might be people who are into that. Right? She shrugs. 

But– oh– she's supposed to be into him. Right. Yeah. Sure. She can do that. Just because she doesn't find him too amazing yet– doesn't mean she never will.

She's going to be. Attracted to him, that is.

She's someone who needs to get to know a person – man – before she can truly appreciate them. _Him_. Before she can start to love someone. A man. 

It's going to take time for her to get to know _him_ , too. But she does admit he has a nice body and nice hair. And that's, like, great.

Her thoughts somehow end up with the green-eyed beauty standing somewhere behind her again. Camila wonders what _she_ thinks about him. Does she find his face attractive? His eyes, his nose, his chin? His cheekbones? His hair? What _does_  she like in a person? A _man_? 

Camila catches herself wanting to know a lot more about the woman. And, she knows– thinks– it's because she has to know what her competition is like. She can only win by scouting the others out. And beating them, eventually.

She finds herself a little too eager to find everything out about one–

"Lauren Jauregui."

Camila sees black hair in the corner of her eye and is immediately back to listening to– to whoever's talking.

It's the mystery woman being called – on something that– is it a stage? – and coming to a halt in front of all the others. 

So that's her name. Lauren. God, what a beautiful name. A beautiful woman, a beautiful name. Perfect. 

Camila blushes as she notices _her_ – Lauren – stare at her as _she_ scans her audience. It's only for a second, but Camila somehow feels that Lauren's gaze lingers on her just a tiny little bit longer than on the others, and– yeah.

It's going to be a tough few weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this might be it for a while. i'm having another depressive episode atm and i'm stuck at chapter seven bc of it. i'm gonna update once i've gotten out of that shit i guess. 
> 
> sorry for being a disappointment


	3. CHAPTER 3 || group date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another disappointing chapter coming ur way bitches

The group date, as it turns out, is as far from a _date_ as somehow possible.

It's just all the remaining girls – a little under twenty – all huddled up together at a big table on the patio. (Seriously, that table is huge. And it's pretty. It's white, just like everything else, but in some way, the white isn't boring, it's rather– fancy?) So– no, this has no date atmosphere to it. It's more of a girls' night out, and it feels mostly like the night they all arrived here.

Camila is sandwiched between Dinah and Ally. She wishes she weren't, though. They seem to want to sit on each other's laps, and they just keep getting closer. To each other, to _her_. Yeah, the two girls are already friends, too, so the three of them do a lot together. It's fun. (Except for right now. Let's say it's _mostly_ fun.) They don't act like competitors at all, and Camila is loving it. She doesn't have a lot of friends, isn't good at making them, so this is a pleasant surprise. You do find people in the most unexpected places.

Camila isn't really sure how she's able to breathe at all but, somehow, she _is_.

Until her gaze meets Lauren. When that happens, all air is knocked out of her lungs at once. The woman is sitting on one of the chairs in the middle of the patio, surrounded by most of the other girls – while she, Ally and Dinah are nearer to the edge – and she's yet again sipping on a martini. Camila swallows. Really does stop breathing for a second. She pretends it's the way her two friends close the distance between them even more as Dinah tells a horribly lame joke but, deep down, she knows it's not that at all.

Lauren starts grinning at what Camila's friends are doing to her but she doesn't look at them, no, her eyes are fixated on Camila.

Camila, who's getting hotter and hotter by the second, wishing for the first time tonight that it weren't so goddamn warm all day _and_ all night. Even with her tank top and shorts, she's suffering, even more now that Lauren is looking at her like– like _that_ , and, God she really wants to get away from this right now.

"Sorry," she says suddenly, getting up from in between the two girls, "I'm going to– I'm going to, uh, go." She smoothens her top, and quickly makes her way towards the house. Ignoring the cameras, she slams the glass door that leads into the living room, and finally comes to a halt in the hallway at the other side of the house. For a moment, she's just standing there, thinking about where she could possibly hide right now. Maybe she should go upstairs? But– she's still hardly able to breathe, so she sits down on the stairs instead. Calms down. Or, tries to, anyway. What the hell is going on? Why does she keep being freaked out by Lauren's presence? Maybe she should concentrate on– that Zayn dude. (She's finally got his name down.) The one that she's supposed to be into, anyway.

Why does she even have to _remind_ herself of that? She groans and brings her hands up to cover her face. What the _hell_ is wrong with her? Everything was going to be easy as soon as she got here. Instead, she's feeling more nervous, more anxious than ever. Like, right now, she wants to vomit. Everything's a mess, a blur, what's–

"You okay?"

Oh, God. It's _her_. _She_ 's here. Coming closer and closer until she's right in front of her. Camila is– what is she going to do? She doesn't dare look up. She bites her lip, closes her eyes. Maybe it's a dream. Maybe she's hallucinating. Maybe she's wishing for her to be here – although she's not sure why exactly – but–

"Uh– hey?" Lauren kneels down to face her. Or, well, she attempts to, but Camila is still sort of awkwardly covering her face, so– "Camila?" It's soft. It sounds a little hesitant, too, like she's not sure about the name. But it's perfect. The way her name rolls off of Lauren's tongue is perfect, and she wants to hear the sound over and over again.

But, instead of saying anything, Camila just hums in response.

"What's going on? Why'd you leave so suddenly?" It's– Lauren's voice is a thing of beauty. It's low, it's raspy. It's tender. It's so lovely. It's– she sounds so caring, like she really _does_ want to know what's up with Camila.

Her heart starts racing. She's almost certain Lauren can hear it. It's hammering away in her chest, in her fingers, her ears, everywhere. And it's all because of Lauren. _Why_? Does Camila really think she's so much of a competition that she won't have a chance? That she's already nervous for the day she's inevitably going to lose against her? And why– why is she having a literal breakdown in the middle of the hallway because of it? "I–" She finally raises her head  to look at Lauren who– who's incredibly close to her. Which is what makes it a bad decision. Her heart immediately skips a beat. Or two. Looking into Lauren's eyes is overwhelming. But she has to do this. Or Lauren's going to think she's a complete freak. If she doesn't already. "Um," she stutters, "I– I'm fine."

Another one of those goddamn smirks develops on Lauren's face. "Sure," she draws out and raises an eyebrow. "If you say so. Just– the others, especially the ones you were sitting with, Deena and Allison I think their names were, wanted to make sure you're okay. They wanted to know where you disappeared off to."

"Their names are– are Dinah and Ally," Camila corrects the woman in front of her. Why'd she know _her_ name but not _theirs_? It's almost as if she paid attention specifically to her hers right and– God, her piercing green eyes are– Camila swears she's drowning in them. She blinks a few times. Desperately hoping she doesn't end up _staring_ again, desperately hoping Lauren says _something_.

"Oh," she mumbles, and a blush spreads across her cheeks. She still looks damn attractive. Holy– "Sorry. But– I mean, the question still stands, _are_ you okay?" Lauren has– has the _nerve_ to touch her thigh. And that's– why is she doing that? Yeah, okay, she's trying to comfort her because she's sensing Camila is _not_ , in fact, okay, but– she should maybe stop because Camila might actually _faint_ if she keeps rubbing these circles on her very much _naked_ thigh.

Why– why is Camila so affected by it _at all_? Shouldn't she be glad someone's here to check up on her? She shakes her head. "I– um." She pointedly looks at her thigh. She's sure she's blushing right now. Lauren starts grinning a huge grin and takes her hand away. She swears Lauren knows more than she does, but she doesn't dare ask. "Uh–" Why does she keep stuttering? Why does she keep blushing? Why does she keep over-analyzing this situation? Why does she keep thinking about Lauren? God, what's happening to her? "I– I'm not sure." Well, at least it's the truth.

Lauren's grin grows smaller, a frown replaces it instead. "Yeah, okay. I mean–" Her face is so soft. God, Camila wants to touch it. Her cheeks, her chin, her– wow, okay, Camila should focus, Lauren is trying to make her feel better. _Lauren_ is. She's here to support her, and– "this is all a bit overwhelming, isn't it?" A raspy laugh leaves her mouth. Camila melts. "It's unusual, it's new, and it's– it can be a little much. Maybe you should go upstairs and skip the rest of the night? I'm sure the others won't mind." She ends with an encouraging smile.

Camila swallows. Lauren's lips look ridiculously inviting. But– 'the others won't mind'? Maybe they're all trying to get rid of her. Secretly. Maybe that's what this is about. That her competition wants to get rid of her, no matter the cost. It makes sense. Much more sense than Lauren wanting to give her actual advice. Than Lauren actually wanting to be friends with her. After all–

"I'm just going to leave you alone. It's okay if you want to call it a night and sleep, but it's okay for you to join us again, too. Your decision. Dinah and Ally will be there for you. And if you ever want to talk, so am I." There's a wink, but Camila's fairly certain she's imagined it. Lauren wouldn't wink at her. Ever. Right? She's competition. She wouldn't. She stands up, and walks away from Camila.

Camila, who's definitely not staring at her back. Her ass. Her– her perfectly shaped hips. Camila, who, again, is sure she's nervous about Lauren being a tough person to beat. Camila, who wishes she could pull that beautiful dress right off of Lauren's shoulders. To– to wear it, herself, of course. She swallows. Yeah, she'd do a lot to see Lauren naked. So she can wear this tight, red dress herself. She'd look just as hot as Lauren does, right?

That's why she wishes she could take Lauren's dress off. Because the woman is competition. Because she's _beautiful_ competition. Because her _clothes_ make her beautiful. And if Camila had her clothes, she'd have more of a chance of winning, right? Camila nods to herself. That's it.

Before she's completely out of sight, Camila hears her says, "I'll just give you my number when you're ready." She also hears her chuckle.

Or does she? Maybe it's another one of her hallucinations. Lauren can't have told her to get her number. Surely– or maybe she just means when she's ready to– to come out. With the reason _why_ she's been so anxious. Yeah, probably. Definitely. Because why else would they exchange numbers? It's a competition. A show. For entertainment. You can't make actual friends. Dinah and Ally are exceptions, maybe. But Lauren– why would Lauren ever be– Lauren couldn't want to be her–

Camila groans. Her brain is going to explode. Maybe she really should go upstairs to go to bed. It'd make sense. More so than going back and facing everyone else again. And potentially making a fool of herself again. Yeah.

She gets up and takes the stairs. Crosses the hallway to the end and steps into the room on the left. It's not exactly healthy or whatever to take two showers a day but she really couldn't care less right now. Showers always help her get rid of bad thoughts for a while. Get rid of her anxiety. Her racing heart.

The warm water truly is a blessing. Especially after the day – night – she's just had. She closes her eyes and enjoys the feeling. The water hitting her skin makes her feel better. Always. She can rely on showers. Even when nobody else is there.

When she's done she gets out of the shower and uses one of the towels under the sink to dry off her skin a little, then looks for the hairdryer she needed an hour to find last night to do the same thing to her hair. It's lying on one of the two chairs they dragged into the bathroom, fortunately, so she doesn't have to walk around with dripping hair for too long.

While she's drying her hair, she thinks back to her– her _encounter_ with Lauren. The woman isn't just pretty, she's also _nice_. Why was she so nice to her? Why was she– was she just practicing for _Zayn_? God, if the way she behaved with Camila was any indication of what she'd do to Zayn– she'll probably wrap him around her finger within a few days.

Camila's stomach contracts. She doesn't want Lauren to be that _nice_ to Zayn. And that's because– because she wants to have a chance with him.

Screwed.

She's so screwed. She's going to get kicked out of the group, and she's sure it's going to happen soon. What would Zayn see in _her_ if he could have someone like _Lauren_? Lauren, who wears perfect dresses and has perfect eyes and perfect hair and a perfect voice– of course he'd want _her_ and not Camila.

She huffs as she turns off the hairdryer. She puts on the pajamas she brought before she stepped into the shower and leaves the room. Her bed is waiting for her. And so is Dinah, apparently.

"Mila!" the younger girl exclaims and runs to hug her. Camila's a little overwhelmed, but she likes being hugged by Dinah. It hasn't been long, but she's become accustomed to them. It's nice. She likes being hugged. She wishes Lauren would– talk Zayn into hugging her.

"Dinah," she laughs awkwardly as that last thought runs through her brain. "Hey, didn't expect you to be here already."

"It's late," Dinah shrugs. She ends the hug by lightly tapping her forefinger on Camila's nose – which makes the girl flinch a little – and then plops down on the bed. "Man, that sure was something."

Camila crosses the room to her own bed and sits down, too. "Yeah, why?"

"It just was. I mean, with all the girls being there it felt a little– yeah. But, hey, maybe the cameras caught something juicy."

Camila looks over and sees Dinah wink exaggeratedly. She laughs another embarrassed laugh. "Yeah, yeah, that sure would be–" she clears her throat and looks down at her thighs, "that sure would be something."

A yawn leaves Dinah's mouth. "Alright, I'm going to take a shower, too, and get my beauty sleep."

"Yeah, sure, you– uh, you do that." She looks up for a second and gives her a probably very unconvincing thumbs-up.

If Dinah notices anything, she doesn't say it. Simply gives her a grin and walks into the bathroom. As soon as she's out of sight, Camila crawls down under the blanket and closes her eyes.

She prays her thoughts will leave her alone for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk when the next chap is gonna be posted. maybe after i come back from austria. who knows.
> 
> leave kudos if you liked it, yell at me if you didn't


	4. CHAPTER 4 || photo shoot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so sorry for making you wait that long for a short ass chapter like this lmao whoops

She doesn't sleep anymore at all. Which is great. Okay, no, actually, it's awful, waking up at 5am after sleeping for about half an hour. Camila feels like a zombie. Probably _is_ one by now.

It shows on her face, too. Obviously. The bags under her eyes are the size of oranges. She tries to cover them up with makeup, spends ages in the bathroom every morning. But at some point, even the _that_ can't work any more magic. Once it's reached its limit...

Camila barely smiley anymore. Because it's just too much. Too exhausting. The problem is just– she's in the middle of a photo shoot right now, and she might have had the thought already but **–** her insomnia really, _really_ couldn't have hit her at a more inconvenient time. Her face is going to look like she's ill. Terminally ill, probably. On the pictures, that is. Her face  _feels_ like such a mess right now. Which is frustrating. Because she can't do anything about it. Damn that stupid makeup. Isn't makeup supposed to cover up _anything_? Not this makeup, obviously. She realizes Zayn will kick her out immediately, and it'll be all over. Her being kicked out means she won't see Dinah again. Or Ally.

Or– yeah, _Lauren_.

 _Lauren_. The cause of– well, everything. Her confusion, her anxiety. They haven't talked that much since that first – and last – time during the group date, but Camila has _definitely_ run into her quite a few times since then. And every single time messed her up. Her heart began racing. Her throat became dry. Just thinking back to it makes her feel all– weak. Yeah, that's a good word. Lauren makes her weak.

And it's all because she's going to lose this competition to the woman sooner or later.

"Honey, you seem a little out of it there." The words abruptly pull her out of whatever world she's in.

She blinks as she tries to find out who said the sentence. Her eyes scan the crew that's a few feet away from where she's standing directly under a tree. It must have been one of the photographers; they're all looking at her expectantly. Waiting for her to reply, probably. "Uh," she stutters, "Yeah? I mean– no." She shakes her head. "I'm fine."

"You sure?" another crew member asks skeptically.

"Yup," she replies with an all-too-bright smile and gets back into her pose. Her hands find her hips, just like earlier, and as she hears pictures being taken, she hopes that she won't look too awful later. Which is _wishful_ thinking, at best. Maybe if she– maybe if she could do something cooler, instead– something that makes people – Zayn, especially, of course– "I have an idea," she interrupts her own thoughts.

She tries not to notice how annoyed the cameramen and photographers look.

"Can you somehow– uh," she bites her lip while she thinks about what _exactly_ she wants to do, "I don't know– do you, like, have ropes or something? Maybe you could somehow make it look like I'm– um– flying? You know, like I'm floating in front of the tree." Their reactions make her flustered, nervous, because what if they think it's–

"A good idea," someone finally replies, "we could do that, I guess."

She doesn't really process everyone suddenly running around to get the things she's going to need for her– her idea. She keeps standing there, staring longingly at the sea behind the still-present cameramen. She sighs. Spending her life here, just appreciating the sun and ocean and sand is– it sounds perfect. Especially if Lauren–

"Alright, let's get you up there," another – different – someone says once everyone has come back.

Again, she doesn't really know what _exactly_ they're doing, but she knows she must be tied to one of the branches so she– so she looks like she's floating in the air. Right in front of the tree. Now that she thinks about it again, it's probably going to look ridiculous but– but _at least_ it's going to distract from her zombie-like appearance, right? So this is definitely better than _just_ looking awful.

It feels extremely weird. And there's a lot more wind up here, for some reason. She feels helpless. There are ropes everywhere, and they're holding her up, and she knows she's safe, in a way, but at the same time– her limbs are starting to feel numb and– it's really– she's scared. And this time, it's not irrational at all. She's _actually_ scared. Maybe she's going to fall down and make a fool or herself yet again. It might just ruin her face. And _then_ she's going to end up looking worse than she already does now. She realizes that this is _really_ risky and not a good idea at all. But she can't tell them that she's changed her mind again. _That_ would make her look ridiculous. Everything she does is– God– why is she like this? Why is everything a mess? Simple, _she_ messes everything up. God. She just–

Is that _Lauren_ coming towards them? Towards  _her_? Camila swears she can see the woman's black hair. Not clearly, of course, but– she swears it's _her_.

"Sweetie, look at us, please. Do– well, something. That makes you look great. Show us your assets."

The photographers sure are something else. If they knew how hard it is to even _be_ up here, they wouldn't _demand_  of her to– to _pose_. She rolls her eyes and tries to give them what they want, anyway. Because good pictures mean she's going to stay here, and they mean she's going to spend more time in the same rooms as Lauren and–

Camila groans loudly. Why can't Lauren leave her alone?

"What the hell are you doing up there?" Of course she's here right now. It's not Camila's overactive mind. Lauren just really _can't_ leave Camila alone. _This_ is enough proof. The fact that she's approaching her and the crew quickly, shouting, "Seriously, what is going on?"

Camila stiffens mid-air and looks at the other woman. She has her hands on her hips, and her expression is kind of– is she upset? Angry? Disappointed? Camila can't see – never mind _interpret_ – the look on her face.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Lauren asks. It sounds– incredulous. As if she can't comprehend what's going on.

Neither can Camila. What is Lauren doing here?

"I mean, not that I'd mind because– uh– less competition but–" Is Lauren blushing? No, she can't be. It's the sun. The lighting. It's playing tricks on Camila's vision. "You're making it way too easy." Okay, no, no blush. She's smirking, instead, and Camila hates it because– because– because it makes her feel weird. She can't even explain it. It's just– _weird_. Or maybe the ropes are too tight and her arms– legs– are number before. It's– it's likely.

"It was her idea," one of the photographers says immediately, and gestures to Camila who's still sort of just hanging there. "She wanted to–"

"I don't care," Lauren interrupts him, and he jumps, "Get her off of that damn tree! With all this wind, who knows if this tree is safe. Something could happen at any given moment." It's direct, her voice sharp, and she really doesn't leave anyone a choice but to comply. Wide-eyed, the crew runs over to where Camila is still hanging, and they get her off of the branch.

Once they've finished, and once Camila is back on the ground, the cameramen and photographs disappear. Until the only one left is– Lauren. Of course.

Camila's heart won't calm down. Lauren being here, in front of her– it's too much. She can't–

"Camila, you've got to be more careful." It's that raspy voice again. God, why does she have to have such a hot voice? How can _voices_ even be _hot_? "Or you're going to end up being the lamest contestant ever. Hitting the ground while supposed to be floating. Yeah, that's going to get you into the headlines, but it's not going to get you Zayn."

At this point, Camila is sure she's looking like a lost puppy. She's trying to follow what Lauren's saying, but instead, she stares at her mouth. Her cheeks. Into her eyes, too. At her hair. It's all so beautiful. So, yeah, she probably seems lost, in her attempt to listen.

"I'd be more careful from now on. Just a tip, from contestant to contestant." The way she says contestant sounds a little sarcastic. But Camila guesses that it's Lauren's nature to be sarcastic, like, all the time. She seems like the type. It's not like she doesn't _actually_ want to be here. Right?

Camila doesn't see Lauren roll her eyes at the word _contestant_. She's still lost.

"I mean, don't we all want to be that guy's favorite?" It sounds– it sounds like a joke. Like Lauren doesn't mean it. But– why would she _not_ want to win Zayn over? Surely Camila's senses are– are still all messed up. When aren't they? When isn't _she_? Lauren is here because she _wants_ Zayn, she wants him to be _hers_.

Just like Camila wants him.

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i still haven't gotten around to writing chapter 8. ugh. every time i wanna write and search for inspo i get triggered bc of random ass things and i'm back to feeling like trash. so that's fun. but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> kudos would be neato. especially cause they motivate me for like 0.4 seconds and i temporarily feel ok hah :')


	5. CHAPTER 5 || cocktail party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for 100 kudos :)

For the cocktail party, they return to the beach on which they all got to know each other. It's basically like the day they Camila met everyone – or _saw_ them – all over again.

The day Camila laid eyes on Lauren for the first time.

The thought makes her all– hot. Again. Her breathing quickens. Camila takes a few sharp breaths to calm herself down. But to no avail. She sighs. Of course it doesn't help. Maybe alcohol will make her heart slow down instead. As she's standing in the middle of the illuminated lounge, she wonders if maybe Lauren is going to make her become an alcoholic. Damn her and her goddamn perfect looks and– damn her for being the best and simultaneously worst competitor she's ever had. Not just on the show but in life. Camila shakes her head. Alcohol. She quickly makes her way over to the bar and grabs one of the glasses filled with red wine. She doesn't even like wine all that much but– she's got to drink _something_ , and soon, and she can't wait for anyone to make her a drink now. So she's going to take what she gets. Which is, in this case, wine.

The first sip makes her cringe. It's bitter. Disgusting. Why do people willingly drink wine? She sighs. As if it matters. She empties the glass within a few seconds and puts it down on the counter. It does help to calm her nerves a little. Good.

Already feeling a little lightheaded – it must be the heat and humidity out here – she walks over to where Dinah and Ally are sitting. Intent on not being sandwiched again, she sits on a chair across from their sofa.

"Yo, Chancho, why'd you start drinking without us?" Dinah asks. There's a pout on her face.

"Felt like it," Camila replies vaguely; she has absolutely no desire to discuss her coping mechanisms with Dinah right now. None.

Dinah looks at her and knits an eyebrow, "Alright." She turns back to Ally who seems to be about to tell an incredibly exciting story. Another girl suddenly sits down in between them, and it doesn't seem like they're unfamiliar at all. Normani, she thinks her name is. Yeah, she kind of seems to fit.

Normani, Ally, and Dinah.

It's perfect. They're the type of threesome to make it into the headlines everytime an episode airs because of how perfectly they sum of the situations everyone _else_ finds themselves in.

But, like– yeah. They're engaged in their talking now. Fortunately. Because that means they don't notice Camila turning her head and seeing–

 _Lauren_.

So much for calming her nerves. Camila's heart starts accelerating again, she starts sweating; her throat all– all dry. Which means even if she wanted to say something – which she doesn't because in Lauren's presence she usually ends up stuttering, anyway – she _couldn't_.

It's not just the same location as before. No, Camila immediately notices that Lauren is wearing the same dress, too. The same white dress she wore that first night. Camila recognizes it. Even though it's been weeks. 

She tries telling herself over and over again that the only reason why she's so– so– why she always notices Lauren, no matter how many others there are, is that, from the very beginning, she's been sure Lauren would be her worst nightmare – competition-wise.

Because she's always perfect. Lauren's mascara is perfect. Lauren's eyeshadow is perfect. It's dark, but not too dark. It compliments her eyes– well, perfectly.

For a second, Camila stops to wonder why 'perfect' is her go-to part of every description when it comes to Lauren. And not something like– well, something negative. Because that's what you'd usually use when you hate someone, right? This is hate. That's why it makes Camila feel so weird. It's an emotion she's never felt before. Hate. That's it. That's why she always heats up. Why she stumbles over her words. It's too intense.

God, Camila doesn't want to think about this right now. Her vision is blurry as it is, and it's not just from the alcohol.

Because she's barely had any.

She turns her head back to look at Dinah, Ally, and Normani across from her and takes a few breaths.

"Damn," Dinah whispers suddenly.

Ally's eyes grow wide in response and her elbow comes out to hit Dinah's side. She looks at her incredulously, as if to say, "What the hell?" and Camila has no idea what's going on.

So she decides to ask. "What's up with you two?"

(Normani, in the meanwhile, seems not to be too invested in whatever Dinah and Ally have been babbling on about.)

Camila's breathing has calmed, as has her heart. Maybe she could glance over at Lauren one more time, though, just to check if her heart stays calm this time and– okay, bad idea. As soon as her eyes settle on Lauren, she realizes that Lauren is looking at her, now, too. She's been caught. Red color spreads all over her face, and– God, could it get more embarrassing? She turns her attention back to Dinah and Ally – she asked them a question, anyway – and tries not to think about Lauren's smirk and Lauren's hair and Lauren's makeup because thinking about it makes her hot and flustered and–

"I could ask you the same thing," Dinah finally says. There's a big grin on her face.

"Oh, my God," Ally chimes in, "I have to go. I can't– Dinah, you– I have– stuff to do. I'll just go see what the others are up to. Mani, you coming with me? You two– you–" She's completely out of it, it seems, and kind of flustered, just like Camila. She gets up from the sofa, gesturing wildly, and quickly makes a beeline for the crowded part of the lounge a few feet away. Normani follows immediately, shrugging. Like she has no idea what's going on – what's gotten into Ally – either.

Camila, in the meanwhile, tries to get behind what Dinah means. "What? Who?"

Dinah wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

Confusion. Camila's confused. There's nothing but a big question mark in her head. "I have literally no idea what you're talking about."

"Honestly? You're trying to play that card with me?"

"What card? Dinah, what is– _what_? Why are you looking at me like that?" It's making her uncomfortable. With the way the younger woman is grinning at her as if she knows all of Camila's secrets. Which– she doesn't _have_ secrets, so she shouldn't feel this– this _naked_ or whatever, but she _does_ and–

"Oh, come on. You and Lauren," she finally says. "What are those looks I see you give each other? Huh?" Another eyebrow wiggle.

"I don't understand," Camila says. And she means it. What the _heck_ is Dinah talking about? She takes a quick glance to her right to look at Lauren. Lauren. To her surprise, she's got a lot closer. It should probably freak her out, but right now, her head is– what is Dinah implying? Lauren, Dinah talked about Lauren. Said _her_ name. Why?

"You really don't, huh," Dinah says thoughtfully. Hums. "Well, you look at her like you want to bone her." It's a simple statement. No additions are made. No explanations. Dinah leans back on the couch and takes a sip of her–

" _What_?" The word bursts out. Camila can't help it. It's loud, and some of the other contestants turn to look at her. Camila doesn't pay attention to that. She just blinks. And blinks. Freezes for a second. Then her mouth opens. She desperately wants to say something. Defend herself. But the– the accusation is so _ridiculous_ that– does she _really_ have to say anything? She isn't– she can't– her mouth closes. And opens again. Closes. She swallows. Her heart feels like it's about to explode. She wants to puke. Her head is spinning. "What?" she whispers again.

Dinah snorts. "You want to bone that chi–"

"Don't," Camila suddenly warns, "say it again." Yeah, somehow she's gained the power of speech back. "I don't want to bone anyone. No boner here. I mean–" she laughs awkwardly, hoping nobody's close enough to listen, and then spits out, "No boning. None. I don't– why would I want to, _you know_ , anyone? I don't. Especially not– not– I'm not gay! Or bi, for that matter! I'm here to be with a man! A manly man! A– a _man_!"

Biting her lip to contain her laughter, Dinah says, "Uh huh. Sure. That's why we're all here. But that doesn't mean that–" Camila puts her finger up to stop her. Still, Dinah continues, quietly, "I just thought maybe you want to, you know, _experiment_ because you've heard that she's bi." Camila makes a shushing noise. "Okay, okay. Alright. You tell me what's really up. Why you–" Dinah clears her throat, "look at her like– like that."

Camila will tell her. She's going to tell her exactly what's up. Yeah. Totally. Because she knows for sure what's up. One hundred percent. It's because she's a competitor. That's obvious. That's the only reason. She's still scouting out the competition, just like Dinah said that first night. It's still the case. She's trying to see what Lauren is like so she can– it's because– Camila will tell her.

 _Would_ tell her.

If she weren't about to break down. Her lower lip starts trembling. "It's– I–" No words leave her mouth. Everything's a blur. "I'm not– you know what, just because she's bi and just because you're probably– something like that, too, doesn't mean you've got to push that– that _agenda_ on me. I don't– don't get me wrong, I don't have anything against anyone but–  but– why do you always assume that– I don't– oh, my God." It's a ramble, it's a mess. Camila has no idea why she's said what she's said. She'd _never_ say horrible things like that. Not normally. But this– she feels so– "I've got to go." She's really going to faint if she doesn't leave. Yeah, leaving the scene _again_ might not be ideal, but–

She merely hears Dinah mumble an apology and she swears she sees a disappointed look on Lauren's face when she passes – who wouldn't be disappointed if someone basically argued that being sexually attracted to the same gender isn't cool, if that someone made it sound like being gay or bi would be the worst thing to happen to them – but she tries to ignore it. Focuses on her own impending breakdown, instead.

She doesn't know how she makes it to the mansion and up the stairs, essentially fleeing the camera crew as well, with tears streaming down her face and her stomach being in knots. But somehow, she ends up in the shower, and then in her bed.

While she's lying there, tears mostly washed away or dried, she wishes she weren't here. At all. _God_ , she wishes she had never said yes to her mom when she'd had the idea. She wishes she hadn't met Lauren. She wishes she hadn't felt that intense need to defend herself at the party. Wishes she hadn't ruined her own night, ruined Dinah's night, ruined Lauren's night and potentially the rest of her days here, too.

She wishes she hadn't run away.

But she'd had to. She couldn't face anyone after her– God. She closes her eyes. Bites her lip. Hard. One doesn't say such things. And if one _does_ , one apologizes. One doesn't run away. One doesn't leave everyone wondering why one even reacted the way one did.

She regrets everything. She regrets having looked into Lauren's eyes on the first night. She regrets having stared at her every day. She regrets having been so awkward around her. She regrets having sat on the stairs, talked to Lauren. She regrets being on this goddamn show because Lauren Jauregui is the worst– best– worst competition she's ever had. Ever will have.

She regrets befriending Dinah. Dinah, who wouldn't leave her alone about the whole issue.

It's not exactly healthy, but Camila can't help the self-loathing creep through her body. It takes her at once. Embraces her. Maybe once she apologizes it's going to be fine. Even if Lauren is her enemy on this show, she still needs to apologize.

At least the audience will have great entertainment once this episode airs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...sorry. for this chapter as well as not having updated in what feels like ages.
> 
> kudos and comments motivate me! literally.
> 
> i know i shouldnt be whining and i tried to avoid it but here's the deal: i'm still depressed as fuck. i don't feel like i'm good enough. i've been trying to decide if i should delete this fic or not. i just...feel like disappointing you guys more and more with every chapter that's posted. idk how to deal with this.
> 
> again, i'm sorry. i love you all, though.


	6. CHAPTER 6 || the talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry. i wanted to post this days ago but...a _lot_ has happened and i really wanted to finish chapter 9 before i updated too
> 
> anyway...here it goes.   
>  
> 
> **WARNING: G A Y**

It takes a while for Camila to convince herself to get up. 

In fact, it's not her who convinces herself at all.

To her, it actually sounds like a good idea to stay in bed all day, bury herself under every blanket she can find, and hope for the ground to swallow her up. It's the _best_  thing she can think of. 

She doesn't even really know how long she's been lying here, not moving, after she woke up. It must have been hours. It's probably afternoon already. Thank God nothing important has happened today so far.

Camila would love to stay in forever, now that she thinks about it again. She groans and is about to pull the blanket over her face when she notices someone sit down at the edge of her bed. The someone doesn't say anything. Just– sits there. Silent. And she appreciates the silence. It's comforting, in a way. She's not alone with her thoughts anymore, someone's there, and she's sure it's Dinah, she's got to know her smell these past weeks. So–

"Mila," she suddenly starts, "I want to apologize for– you know. I shouldn't have said that last night. I was kidding – mostly – but I guess it was still a little over the top." 

Camila slowly opens her eyes and looks at Dinah. "It's okay," she sighs, "I shouldn't have reacted like _that_ –" she grimaces– "either. It was– I don't know why I said all that. I didn't even mean it. I– Lauren probably hates me even more now. And I can't blame her."

Dinah bites her lip. Mumbles something along the lines of, "Yeah, _hate_ , sure," but Camila can't hear her properly, so she leaves it be. "Alright, well, we should get ready for the whole group date thing. I'm going to shower if you don't mind."

Camila doesn't, so she shakes her head and tells her roommate it's okay. 

The following minutes pass with her still lying on the bed and staring blankly at the ceiling. What is she going to do? Obviously, she can't stay in during the group night. With so little girls left, it'd be noticed right away. She'd have to have a _really_ good reason not to show up, and she doesn't. She groans again. She's not sure how she's even made it until here. Why Zayn has kept up with her when– 

Oh no. God– of course, now that she's decided she needs to go out tonight, she immediately starts wondering what Lauren is going to be like. What she's going to say– what she's going to be wearing, what her makeup is going to be like. 

The butterflies in her stomach– _butterflies_? 

When did that– that _feeling_ turn into _butterflies_? Is her head messing with her? Mocking her Dinah-style? 

"Hey, Mila, I'm skipping the hair drying part, so the shower's all yours. I'm going over to see Perrie. She's pretty nice. Ever since Ally got kicked off, I've been talking to her. She's really got the hots for that Zayn dude." Camila sits up in time to see Dinah take her purse and grab a chocolate bar. To see her roommate turn around. Wink at her. Say, "See you in a bit!" before slamming the door shut.

"This is going to be _so_ much fun," Camila says to nobody in particular as she walks towards the bathroom. She doesn't choose an outfit yet, she can always do that after the shower, she guesses. 

So she enters the relatively hot – and very  _humid_  – room and locks the door. Nobody's here who could potentially come in, she knows this, but it's kind of like a reflex. She can't help it.

When she turns the water in, it's not just warm, it's– "God, Dinah!" she yells in frustration. One of these days, she's going to go blind rolling her eyes.

It takes a while for her to find the right temperature, but once she has, she stays in the shower for quite some time. Just stays. And stays. And stays. Doesn't think about anything at all, which is new. Thank God. She can really use this moment of silence from her own brain. Before long, it's all crashing back down, anyway. It's good to catch a break and hope it lasts.

Once she's fed up with just standing there, she repeats her usual procedure – drying her skin and hair, brushing her teeth, putting on some deodorant and cologne – she steps out of the bathroom and leaves the door open. The room seriously needs air now. With two girls having showered, it's getting sticky in there.

Her outfit for the night is awaiting her in the closet, but it's not like she knows exactly what it's going to be yet. So she just takes a chair, and plops down on it in front of the now opened dresser.

Is black a good choice? White? Or maybe something more colorful? And will it be a dress or a skirt and top? A blouse? What about _jeans_ and a top? It's not easy, having to decide on something sexy, having to impress Lauren– because she finally needs to understand that Camila, too, is tough competition. And, of course, she also needs to be seen by Zayn.

Camila can't help but be nervous about the prospect of seeing Lauren, yet thinking about Zayn being there doesn't do anything to her. She tells herself she still needs to get to know him a little better. 

Maybe she should just put on a pair of grey skinny jeans and a yellow top. Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.

And, as it turns out, it also _looks_ good. It compliments her – few – curves and accentuates her hair. A pair of equally yellow heels make the entire thing perfect, and suddenly Camila actually feels amazing about going out for the first time in– in a long time. Let's say that.

She leaves the room, then, walks downstairs and through the huge living room. The group date, as usual, takes place outside on the patio. Today, apparently, there's only one small table to their disposal because the huge one from the beginning is too big for the remaining six contestants.

As she walks toward it, she reminds herself not to let the fact that _Lauren_ _is here_ get to her head. She's intent on not letting it ruin her night.

It works at first.

She's sitting next to Dinah, jokes with her for the most part, occasionally listens to the rest of the bunch when they have an interesting story to tell.

It works throughout dinner, too.

But at some point, Camila realizes that Lauren is unusually chipper, shares lots of laughs and chuckles – only with Perrie and Ariana, though.

Whenever Camila steals a glance, she averts her eyes or glares at her for a split second. It makes Camila feel– something. Her stomach sinks. Her heart, too. 

As if on cue, Perrie, Dinah and Ariana leave to– to do something, and Lauren and Camila are left alone. Basically sitting across from each other. But not really. It's a weird sitting arrangement. 

Camila doesn't want Lauren to ignore her. It doesn't feel right. She knows she absolutely shouldn't feel like this, shouldn't _want_ one of the others to be– be _her friend_. She shouldn't feel uneasy knowing one of them – Lauren – doesn't even look at her anymore. It hurts, in more ways than one, and, even with everything currently going on inside of her, she bursts out, "I'm sorry." She waits for Lauren to look up from her lap. 

It happens.

It makes her continue stuttering, "I– that was a dick move, saying– saying something like– um, something like that. I honestly don't know why I did it. It– I was annoyed. Dinah kept mocking me, and then she– I didn't mean it like it probably– definitely came out."

"Could have fooled me," Lauren bites out.

"Seriously, I don't– you're bi, so what? I don't care about that. People like who they like. People like–" Camila takes deep breath– "people like _people_. For who they are. For who they– for what they do. For what they say. For how they say it. People– I– there's no shame in wanting to be with a _person_. And if– if happens to be a girl? Or a genderfluid person? I– so what?" God, she desperately hopes Lauren has listened to her. Believes what she's said.

(And she also hopes the cameras haven't caught what she said after Zayn took off with the rest of the gang.)

The silence that follows is filled with the occasional sound of a bird doing its thing in the distance. The silence that follows is numbing to Camila. Her heart, body– everything feels hot and like it's about to explode and– God, she swears she's going–

"Thank you," come the relieving words eventually. There's a smile on Lauren's face as she directly looks at Camila. "You couldn't have said it better. I– I won't lie and say it didn't do anything for me. I admit I was hurt. I took years to finally accept the fact that I don't just like guys. So you can imagine that I don't do well with comments like that. That's why I think it's so great of you to take the time to show me that that was nothing but a slip up in the heat of the moment. We've all been annoyed or anxious to a point where we said hurtful stuff. Sometimes we do things. But they don't define us. What defines us is whether or not we are able to apologize properly. And you just did." Lauren gets up and walks towards Camila, plops down next to her instead. She takes Camila's hand.

Camila can't help but stare at them. And then Lauren's face. Luckily she doesn't get caught, as the woman next to her is focused on their hands. "I– I guess– wow," she mumbles. Blinks. Turns her head. Tries to get her stomach, her heart, her everything under control. It's overwhelming, the way Lauren's touch feels. She– "Good. I– I mean I'm glad you forgive me. It's– I regret saying that a lot. And I wished I'd had the courage to come back immediately but–"

"Sh," Lauren interrupts her. Starts caressing her hand, her thumb drawing soft patterns on the back of it. She must be an artist. "It's okay. I forgive you. So don't– there's no need. _I forgive you_." A laugh leaves her mouth, and Camila finds that it reminds her of the night sky. Full of beauty. Endlessly fascinating. With the stars illuminating her body, her soul, her voice.

One shouldn't think such thoughts about one's fellow contestant. Camila swallows the lump in her throat. Her heart is so fast and so loud, she wonders if Lauren can hear it. 

After a while, Lauren leans against Camila's shoulder. It's completely _unexpected_ , it's nothing Camila could have _ever_ prepared for. She's sure she's going to faint, with how fast her heart's already beating, and she– 

She calms down. Her entire body relaxes. With Lauren's cheek touching her shoulder, with the feeling of her soft hair against the side of her face, her neck– 

Slowly, Camila lets her own head sink down. It comes to a rest on top of Lauren's. She hopes it's okay for her to do this. To imitate her actions. 

When no resistance follows, a smile creeps up on her. Takes her face – and not just that, no, her entire _body_ – hostage. She swears Lauren lets out another one of her incredibly beautiful laughs, but she can't be sure. For it's quiet, and her own happiness is loud, so loud, and it's slowly making her feel like she's coming home after a long, exhausting journey that she didn't think she'd ever return from, so, no, she can't be sure.

Besides, her mind has been playing tricks on her a lot lately.

She closes her eyes. 

It's peaceful; the two of them on the patio, hands intertwined, sides touching, seemingly far away from everyone and everything that usually keeps them from being happy. Happy like this.

It doesn't make any sense at all, but Camila feels like she's just won the show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is probably the best chapter, from now on it's gonna go downhill. so i hope you enjoyed it while it lasted :)


	7. CHAPTER 7 || the family thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry it's been so long! a lot has happened and i'm also still recovering. i feel a lot better though. i got new meds and!!!! an invitation to an interview in a few days!!!! which i'm freaking out about because of my anxiety so basically just like AHHHHH
> 
> anyway enjoy this chapterrrrr and excuse my crappy writing :)

She sleeps better. Much better. The following nights – after that group date – she goes to bed, falls asleep, wakes up the following morning ready for the day. Not tired, not feeling or looking like a zombie. She feels _good_.

A lot of the time that isn't spent with Zayn – which, in all honesty, isn't all that much since they're only four girls left – she finds herself near Lauren. Talking to her, smiling at her, and it's a little weird, but it's not really. Because they've settled this _hate_ thing that had been going on between them, so–

At one point, when she really takes in her surroundings on a particularly beautiful day, Camila swears there are, like, a _lot_ of cameras following her and Lauren, which is extremely unusual, especially when two contestants don't have _that_ much tension–

Because, yeah, they're close now. Ever since the group date. Ever since– _that_ happened: her– _them_ getting over their hate.  _It_ still makes her smile whenever she thinks about it. Again, it's weird, but it isn't, and she doesn't– yeah, they're close.

* * *

It's pretty late when they all get called to the lounge on the beach. Not bothering to put something fancy on, Camila just leaves on her beige top and white skinny jeans – the outfit she's been wearing all day – and follows the crew member to their designated space. Lauren, she notices, has black clothes on – nothing fancy, either – and she's walking next to her, close to her, and Camila _almost_ reaches out to take her hand but– that's completely off limits. With the cameras, and them being competitors and–

Yeah, why does she keep forgetting they're competitors? They might have settled whatever _thing_ had been going on but, like, _still_ , it's all a–

"Alright, so," Zayn starts – he's here, Camila hasn't even seen him, she was focused on– "as you all know, I'm very interested in getting to know your families. And you're only four girls left, so now's the perfect time." He claps his hands. "Perrie, Jesy– I'm going to pay you a visit in L.A. and Sacramento. The cities are pretty close, right? So that works. As for you, Lauren and Camila–" he turns to the two, and Camila is a little startled, she hasn't really been paying attention to him– "since you both live in Miami, and not too far from each other, I have a suggestion. How about we all meet for dinner? We, meaning both of your families and, well, you two and I?"

Camila blinks.

 _Both_ their families. At the same time. He wants to see _both_.

The– the family meetings aren't exactly unusual– actually, they're a normal thing on the show, after all, he wants to get a picture of how they live, who their relatives are, what kind of habits they have, too, she guesses, but–

"Together."

He wants to–

"What?" Camila blurts out after a few seconds of shocked staring. Whereas meeting the contestants' families isn't unusual, _this_ is.

Surely she must have understood something wrong. Maybe she's back to not being able to focus, maybe she has issues with zoning out again– because as far as she can remember, this hasn't happened before. The bachelor wanting to see– all of them will be _together_ , at the _same_ restaurant– it's like one of those two-on-one dates, or, worse, maybe it's like a group date– but then again, wow, she finally got over– _that thing_ with Lauren on one, so–

"–same city. Why wouldn't I take advantage of that?" Zayn crosses his arms in front of his chest and looks at her, confused.

Camila looks to her left. Lauren should be there somewhere. Zayn has a point. Maybe. She guesses. Locking her eyes with the black-haired woman, she knits her eyebrows and finally shrugs. It can't go _too_ wrong, right? It's just a– just a date. With their families and Zayn there, yeah, but–

Why does Lauren look like she's hurt by her reaction? By her nonchalance? Should she have said no? Would Lauren have preferred to go alone? Doesn't she want the– the _togetherness_? Would she rather spend time with Zayn, one on one?

Camila bites her lip. She doesn't want to think about this. She's going to end up over-analyzing as usual and get all anxious. Which will prevent her from sleeping. God, she feels a headache forming. "Uh," she stutters, "I mean s–sure." She turns her head to the front again where Zayn is still standing. Then looks down at her feet.

The ground sure is interesting over here in France.

* * *

Camila is excited. And she should be. Okay, part of her thinks it's a disaster waiting to happen because what if their families detest each other and will make it super awkward and– she doesn't even know. Maybe they're going to end up beating the crap out of each other in the middle of it all.

Her leg is bouncing. This entire thing is making her anxious as hell. She's excited, of course, but– yeah, let's just say not every part of her is. Actually, all parts of her have different opinions on the subject.

But, like, anyway– she suddenly remembers how, this morning, her family showed Zayn their house. That he actually looked impressed. He likes her parents and grandparents, apparently. Just like her. She hopes so, at least. It looks like it. Which is good. A plus. Makes it easier for her to win him over. She clears her throat at the thought, snaps out of it.

Now, as Camila is standing in front of the restaurant – a pretty fancy one at that, and one she'd never once thought about going to before – she wonders if her clothes are appropriate. She's put on a light blue blouse, almost see-through but not really because she doesn't want to risk everyone seeing her, well, assets if she ends up spilling a drink on herself – which is probable, considering that she's _Camila_ – and dark brown pants. She was sure it'd fit the occasion no matter what but she's nervous now. Are her clothes still appropriate when choosing meals that cost a hundred dollars?

Zayn arrives while she's still thinking about price ranges. She hugs him and kisses his cheek, watches him say hello to her parents and grandma. It's strange. Kissing him. Okay, she hasn't _kissed_ him yet but– even the kiss on the cheek makes her feel awkward. His beard is– she doesn't like it. But he's going to shave at one point, right?

She's just always been into smooth skin.

"Hey, guys," Lauren's voice greets them all of a sudden, "sorry, we got stuck in traffic."

Camila wants to say, _That's no problem, as long as you're here now_ , but it's not her job, and she's not on a date with Lauren, _Zayn_ is, and she honestly shouldn't even feel the _need_ to say anything like that because–

As Zayn goes over to greet Lauren's family, Camila looks the woman over. Well, really, she _stares_. But, good God, she's beautiful. Her makeup is incredibly– and her _eyes_ look even greener than usual, even though she can't even really see them out here with only streetlights illuminating the scene– her hair is curly, not straight – unlike Camila who's one hundred percent straight and very much into Zayn, just not his facial hair, maybe – and her outfit–

Camila swallows. She notices Lauren step closer to her, and her heart immediately beats faster. Damn, and she thought she was over this. But how can one be over this competition thing, this  _hate_  thing when their opponent shows up to a date _this_ beautiful? One can't help but think about how– they're going to lose, inevitably. Because that's all Camila thinks about. Nothing else. Not about how she wants to kiss Lauren until her lipstick is gone. Not about how she wants Lauren to cry out her name when–

Shaking her head, Camila realizes that Lauren's been standing in front of her for a few seconds already. One of her eyebrows is raised – oh, her perfect eyebrows – and she has that smirk going again.

"Hey," Camila says, and only once she's said it does she notice her voice is raspy. Her throat must have become dry with the cold out here. She shivers.

"Hey," Lauren says back, "cold?"

"Yeah, I– I guess." It's all she manages to say before–

"Guys, we should get inside, Camila's cold."

"Sure, sorry, we got caught up." Zayn offers an apologetic smile and starts walking towards the entrance of the restaurant.

Lauren lets their families follow him, and only enters once everyone else is already inside.

Camila is last. She's still trying to get herself to move. She takes a deep breath, exhales, and then realizes that her walking behind her fellow contestant allows her to really check her out. She– she needs to know what she's up against, still. Of course. And, God, these clothes– they're all black again, she thinks – of course, with the shitty lighting she still can't see _everything_ – and they're so figure-hugging– her pants–

"Oh, my God," Camila whispers to herself before finally, finally getting it together and stepping into the building.

* * *

Not staring at Lauren is difficult. Camila doesn't know why, exactly, but it's difficult. Especially with the woman smiling, or throwing her head back laughing, or just looking fucking _gorgeous_.

But Zayn's here. And Zayn should be Camila's priority. Not just now, _always_. She shouldn't have such a hard time focusing on him. Having to scold herself to pay attention to _him_ instead of Lauren. She's on a date with _him_. Not Lauren. She laughs quietly to herself. It comes out a little more awkward and bitterer than she intended for it to be but, like, whatever. Just– why– why would she ever possibly be on a date with Lauren? Now that's ridiculous.

They're enemies. They will be for the entire length of this show. That's all they are. Will be. Chances are, they're not going to keep in touch after this whole thing ends. Because they're on a date with _him_ , not each other. They're into _him_. Should be. He's attractive.

Camila clears her throat. Why is the prospect of having Zayn as a boyfriend not making her happier? She should be celebrating. That she has an actual chance to win this. Win _him_ over. They're only four contestants left, and she's here for a reason.

Except– so is Lauren. And _she_ is always on her mind. In one way or the other. Beautiful, amazing,  _perfect_  Lauren who is much more likely to win this.

 _She_  is the reason why Camila can't be happy about this. 

Camila crosses her arms and leans back. Great, she's back to thinking _that_ again. She really can't catch a break. Wow.

She can't talk now. Earlier, she at least laughed at the occasional joke coming from one of their family members. But she, God, she can't laugh right now.

She just observes how their families get along. And, well, they get along just fine, apparently. Awesome. She huffs. Of course they do. As if it weren't complicated enough already. Maybe they do get to see each other again after the Bachelor. Because, as far as Camila's concerned, their moms and dads have been talking ever since they got here.

And people who like each other schedule more meetings. They come see each other. It's inevitable.

The problem is– one of their daughters might end up being with the dude sitting at the table with them, and the other is most probably going to suffer. Because–

Camila swallows her tears. Her jaw clenches uncomfortably. The person ending up dating Zayn is definitely going to be Lauren. With her amazing looks and– yeah, no, Camila is going to end up being awkward and _not_ dating Zayn. Just– she doesn't even feel bad thinking about Zayn being with somebody else because may the best woman win, right? What bothers her more is the thought of– ugh. She swears whatever's on her mind, she doesn't want to go there. Why is this so frustrating?

"Hey, sweetie," a soft voice to her left interrupts her thoughts, _fortunately_ , "something's bothering you, isn't it?"

Okay, no, _unfortunately_ , this isn't any better than her thoughts. Plus, she still really doesn't want to talk. She cringes internally. Decides that she needs to get away. Right now. Manages to utter, "Yeah, I, uh– yeah, no, I'm fine. Just– I haven't had wine yet, and I feel like wine should be an essential part of this evening, you know?" She gives an unconvincing smile – teeth and all – and leaves her seat. The table. Crosses the crowded restaurant until she finds herself on a stool at the bar. "Can I get some red wine?" she asks immediately.

"Of course. Which one will it be?"

Having no knowledge about wines whatsoever, she decides to go with the truth. "Something strong. Strongest you've got."

"Uh– sure." The bartender looks at her funny – she's pretty sure nobody usually orders 'the strongest wine' – but she doesn't care. She just needs to get alcohol in her system. As soon as possible. She groans. What a–

"What a night, huh?"

Oh, God. No. Not _her_. Why does she always, _always_ show up? Why is she– "What are you doing here?" she bites out. It comes out more harshly than she intended, and she apologizes right away. "Sorry, I'm just– running low on alcohol right now." She looks at Lauren apologetically.

It's not really a joke, and it's not funny at all, but Lauren starts laughing. "Yeah," she says and sits down next to Camila– really close to her, too, which– why– "yeah, same." She's still grinning when she orders some wine as Camila. "And, just for your information, I wanted to keep you company." Her head turns. She winks.

Camila swears she's about to faint. Things are happening in her stomach. A lot of things. There are, like, butterfly-like things in there that she doesn't like at all, and she– she wishes she could blame it on the alcohol but she hasn't drunk any yet. As if on cue, her red wine arrives. "Thank God–" she turns her head to her glass– "I need this. Now." She empties half of the large glass.

"Wow," Lauren says. Camila can feel her raise an eyebrow. She doesn't need to look at her. She just _knows_.

"Finally," Camila sighs. The alcohol instantly calms her. The butterflies slow down. Good. A good thing. Very good. She bites her lip in relief and closes her eyes. Stays in this very position until she distantly hears another glass hitting the wooden surface of the bar. Her eyes scan her left. Lauren's wine has–

Lauren isn't looking at the wine. Not at all. Instead, her eyes are glued to Camila. Not her face, either. No. Her– her _hips_? Some of her lower body parts, anyway.

Camila's– she's sitting, why is she– Lauren doesn't seem to realize she's been caught staring, so Camila says, "Your wine's here," and turns her head back to the bar. She doesn't– oh, God, what is happening? Surely she must be hallucinating again. This can't– she doesn't want this to get uncomfortable, and she– she has no idea what to do or say. She drinks the rest of her wine.

Once she's put the class down, she glances at Lauren again. It's– she's not _checking her out_ anymore – or whatever else it was – no, she's basically neck deep in her glass of wine instead. As if she's hiding.

Camila swears her cheeks are– is she blushing? No, she didn't even really _check her out_ , it's all Camila's wishful thinking and the lighting and– w _hat_? When did _hallucinations_ become wishful thinking? "I need more of this," she groans, not being able to keep up with the pace of her emotions and thoughts and–

"Me– me too," Lauren mumbles right before she empties her glass as well.

Camila looks over at the older woman yet another time, and her heart almost stops. She catches her biting her lip. It looks– fuck. Okay, Camila can't wait for this night to be over. The butterflies are back and her stomach is doing the weird things she can't identify and she's heating up and– God, she _really_ shouldn't drink any more. It's all the alcohol now. First, it was her not having drunk any, now it's her having drunk too much. It can't be anything else.

Lauren suddenly laughs. Out of nowhere. But it's not– it doesn't sound like she's enjoying herself or anything of the sort. It instead sounds– desperate? Bitter? She mumbles an, "I'm so screwed," and her cheeks redden.

(It's because of the alcohol, surely.)

Her faint blush mixes with the white wine she's trying to drown it in, and the resulting rose color has every chance of becoming Camila's new favorite.

Along with piercing green.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey btw i literally just finished writing the last chapter!!!!!! so abdjjcndb the rest is coming soon!!
> 
> kudos and comments are appreciated, as usual!!
> 
> see you next chapter :)


	8. CHAPTER 8 || lazy day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> camila's thoughts are _extremely_ chaotic in this. and by chaotic i mean, like, full-on ridiculous. so have fun trying to figure out what the fuck this girl is trying to say throughout the chapter lmfao

It's not the first time Camila is wearing a bikini during her time on the show. She definitely has done that before. There have been quite a lot of beautiful days, days you _had_ to spend swimming, drowning your insecurities and anxieties in clear blue water. Salty or not, Camila loves water. And she doesn't mind wearing bikinis. Because, again, she's worn them before. A lot. On this show. But today is different. She can't put a finger on why.

Just– right now, she's feeling self-conscious.

Now that only she, Lauren and Perrie remain… and she's constantly surrounded by _two_ beautiful girls… okay, don't get her wrong, she's proud of herself for having made it this far – not that she's got _any_ clue as to _how_ she's done it – and she's certainly aware of the fact that she's pretty, too, but with Lauren here, next to her, and–

She shakes her head. It usually helps. To clear it, that is. Thoughts like these never lead to anything productive so– might as well interrupt them before they get out of hand. Especially when she looks up and sees Perrie – her butt, actually, and _only_ that – right in front of her face.

Apparently, the woman has gotten up to take a swim in the nearby pool. Not just Camila's eyes are glued to a certain body part; several cameras are trying to get a good shot of it as well. Not _that_ intent on being caught, Camila shakes her head again. Tears her eyes away. Blushes. Clears her throat. She's not–

What is she going to do? She's already at a point where she stares at girls' asses. Great. And it's not even Lauren. Who she's been – unhealthily, maybe – obsessed with the entire time she's been on the show. No. It's Perrie now.

Although– she's allowed to admire other _people_ , right? Yeah. Sure. Camila shrugs and nods to herself. Grabs a magazine off of the small table next to the chair she's gotten comfortable on.

She manages to ignore how good Perrie looks swimming. Tries not to think about how, when the woman's hands glide through her own hair to make sure it still looks good every now and then, it looks incredibly sexy.

Camila also manages to ignore the fact that Lauren is the only one left in her proximity now. And that the woman is sitting _really_ close to her. And– yeah, she ignores it.

Not for long, though.

Sooner rather than later, she looks up from whatever the hell she has been trying to read. Glances in Lauren's direction. What exactly has _she_ been up to? There's not too much one can do right now, so Camila checks and it– it turns out Lauren is– is she _staring_? Or– or is it something else entirely that she's doing?

Maybe Camila's fantasizing has gotten oit of hand. All she knows is, fantasy or not, it's making her feel weird and–

Maybe some small talk will get her heart back to beating normally. She blurts out the first thing that's on her mind. "So I heard you were bi." The second the sentence has left her mouth  she freezes. Closes the magazine. Holy hell. Why would she– and why'd she make it sound so accusing? God. A distant palm tree on the other side of the pool instantly becomes Camila's best friend. She blinks. "Um–" Can she even save herself now? Why does she always screw up– she can only hope Lauren–

–nonchalantly, distractedly says, "Yeah."

The answer should not make her feel worse. But, somehow, it does. Camila looks up at the sky. Breathes in. Out. "Okay," she finally quietly acknowledges. It's– for a second, a tiny split second, Camila thinks that it's a good thing. That Lauren's bi. That Lauren _herself_ has confirmed she's bi. It makes her all giddy.

But only for that split second.

After that, she feels– ugh. It's all so weird. Camila wishes she could identify what she's feeling, but it's still a mess. It's been weeks, and it's all still a goddamn mess. One of these days she hopes she can figure out what's going on with her but, apparently, today is, yet again, not the day.

It's silent for a while – except for Camila's heart that's still beating relatively fast, and the occasional sound of water splashing around as Perrie's still in the pool – but all of a sudden, there's a crew member yelling an instruction, and Camila is pulled back into reality.

Right. _Reality_. She should have been there all along. God, it's frustrating when you can't control your own thoughts.

All of a sudden, Lauren's voice cuts through the air, effectively interrupting crew and Camila's inner voices. Or– whatever they are. "I didn't come out until recently," she muses, "but I'd known for a while." Then, she adds in a quiet tone, "I didn't think it was such a big deal, though."

So– Lauren's bi. It doesn't sink in. Not yet. Because it's– it's– wow. Her being bi means she's into women. Or does it? Maybe she's into another gender but– it's probable that she's into women and _Camila_ is a women– woman– herself, so– this means she actually has a chance with her and–

Wait. A chance? She's not here to check if she's got a _chance_ with one of her competitors, for God's sake. She's here for Zayn. Only Zayn. They all are. Yeah. _Lauren_ is, too.

(For some reason, the last part makes her feel some sort of sadness. She doesn't want to investigate any further. Her thoughts are already a mess. A mess. Such a mess. A goddamn mess.)

Trying to focus on the conversation, Camila quickly says, "That's not– um. That's– I didn't mean it like that." Because she didn't. Lauren probably thinks she's homophobic or– biphobic when she _really_ isn't; she supports the community a lot–

Lauren laughs out loud.

It's a beautiful sound that makes Camila bite her lip. God. How can anyone's laugh be so incredibly nice?

"I know you didn't," Lauren says. Touches Camila's thigh.

Camila's sure it's meant to be a reassuring gesture; something to make her see Lauren's not mad or anything but she's– God, she's– Lauren is _touching_ her. At this point, she's pretty sure she's hyperventilating. On the inside. Is that even possible? Well, whatever, it _feels_ like it.

In the end, Camila just smiles at Lauren, trying to convince the woman –  and also herself, don't forget that she's trying to convince _herself_ – that she's cool. Not freaking out. In the slightest. Which she totally isn't, anyway.

Lauren apparently senses that something's wrong because she retracts her hands and instead asks a random question. An innocent one. Or… what seems like one. "So what do you like about Zayn? His qualities…" She trails off. The question itself is accompanied by a wink, but then she turns her head away and looks at her nails.

They're painted in a bright yellow color.

Just like Perrie's.

Maybe it's Zayn's favorite color.

Who knows?

Camila realizes that she should probably care but, like, she really doesn't. Besides wondering why her two last competitors are wearing the same nail polish, her mind is blank. Completely blank. Nothing enters it. She knows there's been a question. One that she should be answering _right now_. But she can't. There's no quality of Zayn's she can come up with. Not on the spot. God, she's so bad at impromptu questions. She needs time to prepare. But Lauren doesn't give her that. Just drops it on her. And Camila feels bad for not being to answer, but, also, she doesn't. Nobody can come up with great, amazing, incredible qualities to make one stay on the spot, right?

"What?" Lauren's voice comes again, "He's got you so smitten you can't come up with anything?" There's a quiet chuckle.

Okay, well, if Lauren actually helps her find an answer, why not take it? "Yeah," Camila says, then, "Yeah. That must be it." She tries to chuckle as well, but it comes out forced and full-on ridiculous. Maybe nobody notices. Hopefully.

Lauren leaves it for now. "I'll just ask again later." Fortunately. Then, she asks, "So what about your type in general? What kind of person do you like?"

Someone brings them cocktails. Which they didn't order. But, hey, alcohol is always good. Well, especially in situations like this one. "Um–" Camila starts once she's taken a sip. Still holding the glass to her mouth, she says, "Dark hair, I guess." Yeah, that's vague enough. There are a lot of people who have dark hair. Okay, not Zayn, but– it's just her _general_ type, right? "Green eyes, too." Wow. Admittedly, she's only said that because she's been staring into Lauren's eyes but– nobody has to find out. Plus, there are more people to have green eyes. "Uh– I– I also like– uh," Camila stutters. Great. She doesn't know what she's into. That's a great thing. On a show like _this_ , too. She's got to– "Has to be taller than me." Okay. Nice save. Most guys are taller than her. And most girls, too. But this isn't about girls. Of course it isn't.

Camila is _not_ into girls. Not Lauren. Who she thinks about a lot– Camila's not into anyone.

Lauren, in the meanwhile, smirks. At her cocktail. A weird thing to do, Camila decides once she's caught her doing it. But– Lauren is something else, so Camila doesn't question it.

" _Long_ hair would be good, I guess," Camila finally admits, looking down at her thighs. Hopefully it's convincing. Well, it's not a lie, exactly, but it might expose her because, well, she'd lie if she said she's not thinking of someone specific right now. "I mean– uh– I just– like playing with people– guys' hair. I like when people play with mine, so if it's only fair." Her last sentence sounds more like a question than anything else but she doesn't think about it. Doesn't think about there's still one person in particular she'd like to play with her hair. She shrugs and takes a deep breath.

Hopefully the cameras aren't on her.

But, no, Perrie swimming should give them enough material.

Camila looks over to Lauren.

Who's silently sipping her cocktail. Eyebrow raised. Grin still on her face. It's a big one. God, why does she have to be so attractive when she does this? It's– why doesn't she stop drinking? Like, not that Camila has anything against anyone drinking but– this is– it's making her uncomfortable. Especially with Lauren licking her lips every now and then and–

"Hey, lovebirds," Perrie interrupts Camila's thoughts.

When has she–  how– how'd she not notice the woman left the swimming pool? Is she really so invested in her–

She shakes her head – hopefully unnoticeably – and concentrates on Perrie, who's still standing in front of her lawn chair, drying her hair. "Uh, sorry," she mumbles mid-drying, "I got cold. Don't let me interrupt you." She sits down. "Go on." She sounds amused. Why does she sound amused? Does she know something Camila doesn't?

Camila tries to go back to reading but– suddenly– the word Perrie used comes back. _Lovebirds_? Why would she–

Oh, no. Thinking about this– Camila feels the signs of–

She needs to get away. Hyperventilating isn't a great thing. So she excuses herself, and runs to the nearest bathroom. It's not on _her_ floor, it's on the ground one, but, God, she just needs an escape right now.

Once she's inside the room, locked door and all, she bites her lip hard. She's in front of the mirror, looking at herself. Looking into her own eyes.

How is any of this real? Her head sinks. She turns on the water, puts some of it on her face. Thinks.

She could have sworn Lauren flirted with her back there.

But she wouldn't, would she?

No. This is a competition. She wouldn't. Laurens here to win over Zayn as much as Camila is. Contestants flirting with each other, liking each other, is off limits.

So why does she feel like something weird happened back then? Something like mutual attraction manifesting in actions? It can't be, though. Man, hallucinations aren't part of what she wanted when she agreed to actually go here.

God, this is bad. _Everything_ is. Her thoughts, her entire _head_ is in total chaos. She can't think about a thing for more than a second. Like, she doesn't even _talk_ and still somehow manages to change the subject every other minute. Can't finish a single– just– _fuck_.

Everything's a mess, and Camila is screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're nearing the end, babes. get ready for it!
> 
> as usual, kudos would be greato :)


	9. CHAPTER 9 || the realization

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello welcome to "ridiculous canola" part 5882937

So... they're still three girls. _Three_.

Camila.

Perrie.

And Lauren. Of course _she_ 's still here, too. She hasn't, like, left the show early or anything. It's like Camila said right away – someone like _her_ can't be anything but tough competition. Someone like _her_ wouldn't randomly leave. So, well, yeah. Here she is.

Here they are.

Tonight, Lauren is going to have her date with Zayn. Tomorrow – Camila. After that, they'll know which two girls make it into the final round. Between which two girls Zayn will have to choose in the end.

But it's going to be a long two days.

Two days which are best spent in her room, Camila decides. Her bed, specifically. After all, she still has to catch up on that sleep she lost weeks ago.

Plus, she's safe here. Safer than anywhere else in the house. Or outside. Okay, she's better off in her bed than anywhere else, period. There aren't any cameras here – at least not right now; not when the others might be by the pool, potentially half naked, or, better yet, _interacting_ – and there aren't any annoying roommates, either. As much as Camila had grown to like – love – Dinah… she could be a little too much at times.

Camila sighs. Closes her eyes. God, the bed is as comfortable as ever.

But even the fluffy blanket and soft pillows don't help Camila right now.

You see, ever she got to know when Lauren's one on one date with Zayn is, she's been feeling a little off. A _lot_ off. At first, she thought that maybe she'd gotten sick. But, soon enough, she realized that it's not that at all.

She realized it's the same weird feeling she has earlier in the competition, too, before she got so close to Lauren.

Lauren.

It's always her. One way or the other. Camila sighs again. Opens her eyes. Staring at the ceiling for quite a while, she wracks her brain for a possible explanation.

Only comes up with the same thing she's told herself the entire time: that she's sure she's going to lose. Because Lauren is more beautiful. Lauren is smarter. Lauren can wear anything. She's better. She's so– so _Lauren_.

Yeah, Camila is going to lose because Lauren is Lauren. She has no chance of winning with _her_ in the way.

Except– shouldn't she feel relieved? Knowing the truth? Having an explanation?

Shouldn't her heart stop– stop doing whatever it's doing right now?

It doesn't, though. So maybe there's something else–

 _No_. That _has_ to be it. It can't be anything else. I can't.

Okay, so, maybe, deep down she knows there's _one_ more thing that it could potentially be– that could potentially have her feel this way when she thinks about Lauren but–

"Cabello?" a voice rings through her ears. It's come from the other side of the door, from the hallway, and yet it startles her so much that she swears she almost has a heart attack. She puts her hand over her heart.

"Shit," she curses under her breath, and gets off of the bed. She crosses the room until she's reached the door. Rolls her eyes. Opens up. "Yeah?" she asks, visibly annoyed. Admittedly, she's kind of, sort of grateful for the interruption– the _distraction_ because she's not sure she'd have liked wherever her thoughts would have gone but– still, whatever this person wants from her, she's neither in the mood nor anywhere near ready to leave her room.

"Uh– you're needed downstairs."

"What? Why?" Camila knits her eyebrows. There was no talk of spontaneous–

"Um– lunch?"

Oh, boy. She can't do lunch. Not right now. Not– and she– oh, _boy_. She's canceled on an 'important' event like this before, right? It's not a big deal if she says no. She– she _cannot_ possibly face Lauren right now. So she pointedly says, "I'm not hungry."

The person in front of her objects, "But– the cameras–"

"I said I'm not hungry." Camila watches them, eyebrows raised, until they leave.

And leave, they do. Hurriedly. They close the door with a forced smile, and turn around.

Camila immediately walks back to her bed. She can't do this. She can't– she just wants to sleep all day.

Biting her lip, she reaches for the bottle of sleeping pills. She got them from Dinah when she left – "In case you ever have another sleepless night," she'd said – and the pills have helped a lot. Just– she's not sure if she should take one in the middle of the day. Would she get in trouble for not responding if anyone called for her?

"Fuck it," she finally decides, and takes one of the small pills. She grabs her water bottle from the bedside table as well and once she's finished the procedure, she lies down.

Falls asleep.

Wakes up in the middle of the night. 3:48am, her phone says.

Okay, this means she's slept through Lauren and Zayn's date. Good. She doesn’t have to suffer now.

(Or so she thought.)

Her stomach sinks at the fact that they had dinner. Together. They had dinner together. Lauren and Zayn. Lauren had dinner with the bachelor. A candlelit one, probably. By the ocean.

As much as she tries telling herself that _it's just what the show is like, you'll get the same thing tomorrow– tonight_ , she can't deny it makes her feel– horrible.

Hot tears begin forming in her eyes. And she– she cannot keep them from falling a second later. Not by tightly shutting her eyes, not by wiping at them desperately. Soon, they drop onto the pillow. There are so many tears – too many – that, a few minutes later, the pillow is soaked completely.

But Camila doesn't really care. She's sobbing away, trying to push aside that Lauren had probably kissed Zayn and that she's–

Suddenly, it strikes her.

She freezes. Her crying, her sobbing stops. It all stops. Even time.

Why hasn't she, at any point, thought about Perrie this way? The woman is a real beauty, too. Has a great personality. And yet– yet Camila has paid no attention, no thought to her. (Except that one time a few days ago. And that was just because she – or her behind, rather – was right in front of Camila.)

No. Camila hasn't thought about Perrie. About her... winning. Not even now that they're only three left.

Camila doesn't care if Perrie has gone on her date with Zayn yet. Camila doesn't care if Perrie and Zayn have kissed. They probably have. But Camila doesn't think about _that_.

Camila doesn't care if–

Her eyes open. She gasps. Her breathing immediately quickens, dangerously so, and she– her eyebrows knit. She scans the room. It's dark. She starts hyperventilating. Sweating. Crying. Again. It's even worse than before. She sits up immediately. Gets up. Runs to the bathroom.

Paying no mind to the fact that she literally still has her pajamas on, she gets into the shower and turns it on.

It's like a blur. Everything that happens. Camila can't think straight right now.

( _You can't ever think straight, apparently_ , a mocking voice in her head says.)

The water calms her down. Eventually. It takes a while, though. It might be minutes, hours, she doesn't know. It just– helps. At some point.

She's focused on finally getting her breathing under control again. She's trying to– to gain back control over her body in general– it prevents her thoughts from going back to–

Later, much later, sometime during the night – or morning, for all she knows – Camila turns the water off and walks out of the shower. Dries herself off. Puts her hair in a towel. Doesn't have the energy left to find the hairdryer, however, never mind to actually–

She manages to leave the bathroom. Next goal: her bed. Her movements are slow, the panic attack has drained her to a point where, for a moment, she's not sure if she's actually going to make it back to it but, when she does–

She immediately lies down and closes her eyes.

She feels like sleeping again now. But she knows, no matter how exhausted she might be after the past minutes – past hour, her phone tells her – she can't fall asleep without thinking about what caused her freaking out in the first place.

Her feelings for Lauren.

The realization– it kind of puts her on autopilot. She can't– she doesn't have any control over anything anymore, not her body, not her– it's like an anxiety attack all over again. Except she doesn't cry. Or hyperventilate.

...maybe she gets up and goes outside for a while. Walks around the area. Maybe she goes to the bathroom. Sits on the floor, crying. Maybe she even cries herself to sleep. Maybe she does all of that. The _crying herself to sleep_ part probably, definitely, happens. She thinks. Maybe. It's just– it'd be such a Camila thing to do. Once she's come to terms with something. Anything.

And then she's on her bed. Eyes wide open. Heart beating fast. Slowly coming back to her senses, zoning back in, forcing herself back into reality. Something of the sort. Whatever.

It's afternoon already, her phone tells her, which means she must have been up for a long time during the night, resulting in her only going to sleep well into the morning.

And now she's about to go on her date with Zayn. And she hasn't even started getting ready yet. She's still lying here. Completely out of energy. Not even knowing why because she was _lucky_ enough to literally dissociate to a point where the entire night and morning are erased from her memory. And, also, the weight of having feelings for Lauren is on her shoulders when, really, she should be totally into the bachelor, into _Zayn_ , the one she has a _date_ with soon and–

Before she yet again goes back into full dissociation or panic mode, Camila shakes her head violently, trying to focus on the matter at hand: that she's got no clue what to wear. Because, well, yeah, she hasn't exactly spent the past week thinking about that.

Instead, she was– she has been– freaking out about Lauren.

Lauren, Lauren, Lauren. It's always been her. The entire time. Never Zayn… ever. She's thought about her, only her.

Tears threaten to escape. So Camila gets up. Just in time, too. There's a voice at the other side of the door, telling her – _warning_ her –, "We're coming in soon. We've got to give the audience some styling tips, right? Brought to you by Karla!"

The name makes Camila cringe. But at least the person stops talking after that. Laughter follows, and then they're gone. Walking back down the hallway to the stairs, if their footsteps are any indication.

Camila rolls her eyes and crosses the room to the closet. Steps inside it, even. To pick out some clothes.

It's ironic, really. Her going inside the closet. When, really, she's got to come out of it. Soon. Hopefully. Because this is torture.

Maybe she shouldn't think about this too much right now, however. Her date with Zayn is about to start– okay, well, not really, but the cameras are going to be here, anyway–

She gives them a show. The audience. Makes her usual jokes. Having to entertain someone distracts her from– from everything. Lauren, Zayn, just– yeah, everything. Which is good. Definitely a nice change after days and days of moping. Of being alone in her room.

It's actually fun. She always forgets how great it is to be distracted from _having to feel_ , no matter how fucked up she thinks the distraction really is.

She shows everything to the audience. Her bed, her closet, her bathroom, her clothes. How she gets dressed. How she decides on outfits. The occasional really bad pun enters her speech. Nobody's here to laugh at it but her, but, hey, maybe some people are going to laugh in front of their TV.

Next thing up: her makeup routine. Honestly, she's not sure she's doing it right, but it has apparently gotten her into the semifinal of the Bachelor, so it can't be _too_ bad, right? Plus, if she's doing it wrong, it's going to add another few seconds, minutes, even, to the audience's fun, so– she can only win.

Distraction? Fun. Everything's better than–

Inevitably, she finds herself being escorted to the place where her– their– date is going to be. The crew members are always so intent on being on time. God. She swears she's going to get bruises from how hard they shove her. (Or maybe she's just a little too sensitive today.)

Once she's there, though– she has to admit, it looks incredible. They really _are_ on the beach. By the ocean. It's what she expected when she thought of Lauren and Zayn's date.

This is the– they're– the beach. Camila loves the beach. The ocean. Its waves. She can hear everything, even here.

There are candles, too. Just like– yeah. Candles. She loves candles, too.

She has to calm down. Remind herself not think about the fact that Lauren has done this before and–

"It's beautiful. Thank you," she says, forcing a huge smile on her face.

"You're welcome," Zayn answers from behind her. He puts a hand on her hips, and she kind of wants to vomit, but– "Only the best for the best." He chuckles.

It doesn't sound as good as Lauren's laugh. And– okay, ugh. Not a great time. Camila rolls her eyes at her own thoughts.

"Let's have dinner."

Dinner passes in a blur. Because of course it does. Camila is used to this by now. Not being present when– when stuff happens. She makes small talk, probably. He does, too. Probably. Maybe they even talk about important shit at times, but if they do, Camila doesn't realize. It'd be amazing to actually live an experience for once, no matter how bad, but apparently, Camila's brain doesn't want her to. Which is cool. Perfect.

Anyway–

Before she knows, dinner is over. Camila still stares into the distance when Zayn suddenly gets up from his chair and apparently expects her to get up as well. He's waiting next to her. Next to the table. Raising his eyebrows. She can see that much in the light that the candles shine upon them.

"Sorry," she mumbles, and gets up. Bites her lip and looks down to the very dark ground.

"I had a great time tonight. You're amazing, Camila." Her name– the way it rolls off of his lips not-so-perfectly– it makes her– just,  _no_ –

He tries to kiss her. Of course. She really should have seen it coming. Kissing is, after all, how you usually end dates. But– it's sudden, and Camila doesn't– she's– it's not what she's imagined. God, really, it's  _nothing_  like she expected at the beginning of this journey.

He's so close, and he's still getting closer, and Camila realizes all over again that she doesn't want this. So, right when he's about to press his lips against hers, she pushes him away, whispering,

"I can't do this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you believe this bitch straight up dissociated all through chapter 9 lmao i'd love to hear your thoughts on that 
> 
> ..kudos would be amazing too ily
> 
> PS excuse the shameless self promo but i have a new oneshot up and i'd be eternally grateful if you checked it out thanks byeo


	10. CHAPTER 10 || finale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 200 KUDOS THIS IS AMAZING
> 
> without further ado, here it is: **the last chapter**!! i hope you're READY!!!!

She doesn't get a rose. Obviously. Saying, "I can't do this," right before Zayn tries to kiss her probably does the job. Yeah.

Okay, so, she's made it to the second-to-last round _somehow_ without ever really talking to him. And now... that _not kissing him_ thing? Yup, that would definitely, certainly  _not_ get her any further in the competition.

But– again, as much as she'd like to say that this entire "getting kicked out right before the finale" thing is unexpected, it's really anything but. Ever since her realization, she's known she'd have to somehow get out of this mess. No matter the cost. The cost, as it turns out, is being humiliated in front of a TV audience. The cost is not getting a rose. 

(Well, maybe it's not all that bad. Because, well, the _cost_ isn't, like, _bad_ bad–)

Only Camila Cabello would reject a guy  _millions_  of girls out there would  _die_  to date. Only Camila Cabello would meet and fall for a sexy fellow contestant. Only Camila Cabello would have a month-long gay panic on one of the straightest shows there is. Yeah, only _Camila Cabello_ could be like this.

Mentally going through the events of the past few weeks makes her laugh. It's a full-bodied laugh. She's sitting on the beach (she _had_ to have a little time for herself, away from all the cameras, before her interviews) – her clothes probably dirty by now – literally  _crying_  because of how ridiculously funny this entire thing is. Going on a show like the Bachelor – getting _accepted_ for a show like the Bachelor – and quitting because you realize you're into girls, one girl in particular– it's–

Yeah, laughing is about the best choice right now.

"I'm sorry." Oh, no.

She freezes.

Oh, no, no, no. It's Lauren.

Maybe if Camila stopped breathing _right now_ she could pretend she's not here, that she's–

"It's not great, being thrown out at the last second," Lauren says, and then she sits down next to her. Of _course_.

Well, might as well start breathing again. Camila sighs, "How'd you find me?"

A chuckle. It's all raspy, it always is, and it's killing Camila, especially right now because, wow, she's never going to see Lauren again, and– "Not too hard. You were laughing."

–yeah, she was laughing. Before Lauren appeared out of nowhere. "Good point." She wants to start again. But she can't. It's– the prospect of not seeing Lauren again is– "So you and Perrie, huh?" She swallows. Her voice has almost cracked just now because– well, that urge to laugh has kind of been replaced by the urge to _cry_ – but she doesn't want to– she _can't_ do that either– not with Lauren right next to her, and– why is she such a mess–

"Yeah…" Lauren clears her throat. "Yeah, me and Perrie."

They're quiet for a moment. Camila just hums and looks down at the sand, draws circles in it. From tomorrow on, Perrie and Lauren are going to fight for Zayn. Something about that just strikes a nerve within her. _Lauren_ could end up dating Zayn. Lauren and Zayn. Zayn and Lauren. Zauren. Layn? Holy– why–

"You okay?" Lauren's voice finally breaks the silence.

"Yeah, I'm," _not okay at all_ , she wants to say, "fine." _Liar_. She's not fine. But she's not _not fine_ because she's lost her chance with Zayn. Obviously. She never liked him, was never attracted to him in the first place. _No_. This isn't about the bachelor. This isn't about him in the slightest. Her _not being okay_ is– it's because she's not going to see Lauren again. She keeps thinking about this fact and it– God, she should let it go. Really. It'd be for the best to just leave it be. It's probably a tiny little crush, nothing more. One that she's hopefully going to forget about once she's back home. Surely it's going away once she doesn't see her anymore.

Except, the thing is, even _here_ , on set, she doesn't see her all the time. She _thinks_ about her all the time, yeah. And _that_ might not go away when she's home. Especially with Lauren living in the same city. Potentially _dating Zayn_ in the same city. Oh, _God_. She can feel herself lose it for real–

"You don't _look_ okay," Lauren observes. "And _somehow_ –" she pauses– "I'm not too sure if it has _anything_ to do with Zayn." Her tone of voice is–

It's like Lauren Jauregui knows all of Camila Cabello's secrets. Every last one. So, does that–

"Why did you come here in the first place? Why'd you– um– why did you apply?" Okay, so maybe, she doesn't know _all_ of her secrets.

Camila sighs. She has to tell her now, right? _Can_ she tell her? Isn't she going to sound... weird? Okay, well, Lauren probably definitely already thinks– _knows_  she's weird, so, like– she groans. Rolls her eyes. _Eh_. It's her last night, anyway. Might as well– "I _didn't_." She glances at Lauren, whose eyebrows knit as if to ask– "Apply, that is."

"Oh." Lauren nods, but her expression remains questioning.

"It's a ridiculous story," Camila says quietly. Continues, "My mom actually wanted me to be here. She was the one to– she had the idea. Applied for me, even. She–" another sigh leaves her lips– "she wanted me to have a _boyfriend_. I didn't even want this – _any of it_  – at first. I was literally at home, all like, _how do I get out of this crap before it even starts?_ , and I'd lie there with a racing heart, overthinking. Then, at some point, I guess I started realizing that it could be a chance for me after all. I could go, and people would see _me_ , Camila Cabello. Get to know me. I didn't think I'd get past the first round, anyway." She shrugs. Looks over at Lauren.

There's a frown on the woman's face. "But– why?" She bites her lip, thinking about what to say next, apparently. "I mean– why'd you think like that?" Her words come out in a whisper. "You're incredible." They're so close, and Camila _knows_ she means it.

She actually fears Lauren might hear her heartbeat now. Because it's loud, hammering in her chest, and, God, the closer they get, the more she freaks out. She can't possibly kiss Lauren now and then never hear anything from her ever again. She can't do this. And yet, she doesn't stop, the distance between them is still becoming smaller. And smaller. And– God, their lips–

"Mine was a bet."

They don't kiss, because Lauren suddenly turns her head, and Camila needs a second to process that that has just _happened_ – well, _hasn't_ happened – but she snaps out of it soon enough. Stutters, "Huh? I– what?"

"My application," Lauren clarifies, staring into the dark.

And– wait. Lauren didn't– she never– a _bet_? She didn't– she initially didn't want to be here, either? That's– Camila chuckles. "Oh, my God." It's just– it's ridiculous. Two contestants. Contestants who don't want to be there. Making it into the semifinal.

Lauren joins in but continues, "Yeah, my friends and I– we thought it'd be funny to– to do it. And I guess I made it until here." She looks at a still grinning Camila. "Oh, did I mention we were drunk, by the way? Because we were drunk. _As shit_." More laughter. "But, yeah– I'm here now. And I'm _so_ glad I'm here." These words– _God_.

Their eyes meet. It's so _intimate_. And it makes Camila bold, so she asks, "Yeah? Why?" It's _her_ who bites her lip now; it's something she doesn't usually do, but she has to stop herself from smiling. Because, well, she's pretty sure she knows what Lauren is about to say. She can't– God, this is–

"You're the reason."

Camila's heart skips a beat. And, no, she really can't stop a huge smile from creeping up on her face now. No lip biting could ever prevent it. Not when Lauren's just said _that_.

She's not done yet, either. "I got to know you, and I wouldn't change that for the world. God knows the situation is anything but ideal…" Lauren stops for a second, seemingly thinking about something. Then, "Well, actually, scratch that. It's not just _not ideal_ , it sucks. I mean– everything. The cameras. The fights. Even Zayn. The fact that we didn't – _couldn't_  – talk to each other about the stuff that mattered. And yet– yet I got to know you, in a way, and that's enough to make me remember the time I spent here forever."

With the way Lauren is smiling, with the way she's looking at her– Camila can't help herself. She's perfect. Her eyes, her hair, her face, her– her everything– it's– it's so utterly beautiful that she can't possibly hold back. No, she _couldn't_.

Everything Lauren has said to her– how she's practically admitted she's felt the same all along–

Camila puts her hand on Lauren's cheek, and watches her close her eyes for a moment. They enjoy the skin contact for a while, but then, finally, Camila leans forward and connects their lips. It's about time. It's– they shouldn't have had to wait this long.

But...  _better late than never._  

Plus, it's perfect. Their mouths fit together so, _so_ well, their kiss is spectacular, and Camila knows it's the best she's ever had. Ever. Lauren's lips are so soft, she's so gentle. The way her hands caress her cheeks– Camila swears there are _real_ butterflies in her stomach. Or maybe they're fireworks? She doesn't know. It just– it's indescribable.

Embracing Lauren like this is– she's never done anything that has felt like this before. Nothing has ever felt like Lauren.

It's like finally sitting in front of the fireplace when there's a raging snowstorm, and all you could think about all day was to finally get home. To warm these freezing hands of yours. But once you're there, the flames don't just warm your hands, they warm your entire body, your face, your  _heart_. Yeah, that's what it feels like.

So, it's okay that they've waited so long. Because it's perfect.

The women share _several_ long kisses – _perfect_ kisses – before they're interrupted by the crew approaching them to get Camila for her interviews. "I guess you have to go," she tells Lauren. Calmly. She should panic, really, but she doesn't.

Neither of them does.

"Yeah," Lauren replies in her usual raspy voice.

They stand up, smoothen their clothes – hoping they're not _all_ sandy now – kiss goodbye before anyone can see them, and then Lauren leaves in the direction of the mansion. Camila keeps staring at her until she's completely out of sight, and once she's gone, she starts grinning like a fool. "Wow," she mutters quietly to herself.

* * *

" _Can you give us a hint as to why you're smiling? I mean, Zayn_ did _just kick you out!_ "

" _Well, I_ … _let's just say I'll be okay. I know I will._ "

"Alright, Mila, I'll give you that. You sure knew what to say."

" _That's certainly one way to put it! Semifinalist Camila Cabello out here proving that being kicked off the Bachelor doesn't necessarily ruin your entire life!_ "

"Yo, Chelsea Briggs is at it again with the sarcasm! At least this year's commentator isn't as boring as the ones before, though."

" _We're really glad she's not too sad about her departure, and wish her all the luck in the world. Next week_ –"

"Don't feel special, Mila. She wishes everyone _all the luck in the world_."

Camila rolls her eyes affectionately at the taller girl. "Do you _really_ need to comment on every single line the woman says? I hate you, Dinah Jane."

"No, you couldn't." Dinah takes a handful of popcorn and–

"Hey, that bowl wasn't supposed to be empty before we got to the finale!" Camila slaps her friend's arm.

"Oh, come on, binge-watching an entire season of the Bachelor – the one _we_ 're in, I might add – does leave me hungrier than intended." She shrugs. "Can't blame me, can you? Just look at this! My looks–"

"–aren't that great, and, also? You're mean. No wonder Zayn didn't want you," Camila groans in response.

"What, you finally realize you're into girls and you still don't want to tap this? I'm offended. And don't bring Zayn into this!" Dinah shakes her head. "I can't believe I flew over to see you just to get insulted like this."

Camila leans back against the back of the sofa, choosing to ignore the words. "Who do you think he picked, anyway?" she asks, turning her head toward her ex-competitor.

She receives a hum in reply. Then, suddenly– "Hey, don't you have your object of affection's number? Ask her! It's been, like, _days_ since they stopped filming. She _knows_." The prospect of knowing who won before the rest of the audience gets Dinah a little _too_ excited.

"No."

" _No_ , you don't have her number or _no_ , you're not going to ask?"

"No, I don't have her number. Don't you think I'd have–"

"Ah, yeah, sorry. Well, I think– _oh_ , hey, it's about to start!"

Camila kind of– from then on, she doesn't– she just– her will not to witness any of Lauren's fighting for Zayn leaves her completely inattentive for the next hour or so. Like, she zones out completely. Again. (It's more dissociating than anything else, _again_ , but hey–)

...and she only comes _back to Earth_ once Dinah shakes her. Kind of like when she's in a deep slumber. Nothing can wake her up, then, either. Well, nothing but Dinah's violence, apparently. "What?" she asks, all confused. She has no idea what's going on.

"Just– look!" Dinah exclaims, loudly, _right_   _next to her ear_ , and Camila flinches. But she complies. Looks at the screen. What she sees makes her eyes grow wide.

It's Lauren. Kneeling on the ground. Crying. Covering her face from the camera. Desperately trying to wipe away the tears.

Perrie and Zayn. Kneeling next to her. Holding her, comforting her. Asking what's wrong.

" _I can't–_ " Sobs are wracking Lauren's body. She can barely speak. But she _wants_ to say something. " _If you ever– ever wanted to give me that– that rose, don't_." She glances up for a second. It's heartbreaking. How tear-stained her cheeks are, how red her eyes are. How much she's cried. " _It– it wouldn't be fair to any of us_." She looks down at the ground, then. Effectively hides her face from the cameras again. " _Not to you, not to Perrie, not to anyone_." Suddenly, she gets up. Takes a few steps toward the mansion. " _I need to get out of here_ ," she says, still crying, and leaves the scene. One of the cameras follows her, but she slams the door shut, and runs to the stairs.

Camila blinks. She and Dinah share a look, probably both thinking, _What the hell is going on?_

On the screen, there's a cut to Perrie and Zayn. Both standing in their designated spots again. A few minutes must have passed since Lauren left.

" _Okay, well, maybe this isn't as perfect as I'd hoped it'd be but… will you accept this rose? The_ last _rose?_ " There's a faint smile on Zayn's lips as he walks toward Perrie.

" _Yeah_." The woman mirrors the smile as well as his actions.

They meet halfway.

" _I hope it was meant for me_ ," she jokes. There's a hint of seriousness in her voice, however.

" _Yeah_ ," Zayn grins, " _yeah, I wouldn't want anyone else_."

In the middle of their kiss, Camila is interrupted by her vibrating phone. She glances at Dinah, who seems a little _too_ invested in the on-screen Zerrie action. Which Camila would be, too, probably, had she not gotten a message. She shakes her head and taps on the notification without thinking twice about the fact that she doesn't even have the number saved.

_Sappy, isn't it?_

She immediately  _knows_ who it is. Her heart stops for a second. She blinks once, twice, trying to make sure she's not seeing things. Her knuckles are white from holding on to the phone so tightly. She's frozen. Completely frozen. How could she not be? How can she– how does– 

_Can I see you?_

By now, Dinah seems to either have caught Camila's completely blank stare, or the finale is over. Both, probably. "What's up with you?"

"I– uh–" Camila looks up at Dinah.

"Okay, your eyes are freaking me out," Dinah says as she leans over to grab the remote.

Camila swallows and shows her the message.

"Holy shit. She _did that_."

"Yeah. Yeah, she–" Suddenly, Camila's heart starts beating a little too fast. "Oh, my God, Dinah. What do I do? Do I want to see her? Yes. Do I want to date her? Yes. But can I do that right now? Can I text her? I'm so– oh, my God!" She panics. What the _hell_ is she supposed to do? She was minding her business watching a show when Lauren just _had_ to– why does she always–

Dinah faces her and grabs her arms. "Okay, Mila, listen to me. We both know you're into her. Not just us, really. There's a few more who– well, anyway. You– what do you have to lose? She wants you, too, obviously, otherwise she wouldn't have– _Mila_!"

Camila has zoned out again.

"Mila, are you even– _Mila_!" Dinah pinches her. " _Camila Cabello_!"

"Ow– _what_?"

"Text her back right now!"

Okay, maybe she needs someone to talk to her like this from time to time. She's really glad Dinah's here right now. If she weren't, she'd probably be lying on the floor having a panic attack. But, yeah, the woman's presence helps, and Camila unlocks her phone hurriedly.

She breathes in. Out. In. Out. Looks at Dinah again.

"Come on, you can do this!" This time, she doesn't get a pinch. Just an encouraging smile. Well, grin, really. Can Dinah even _smile_?

"Alright." Her fingers tremble, but she manages to type,

_Yeah._

The reply is instant.

_Good. Because I'm coming over. Right now._

It's kind of a lie. Because the second she receives the text, there's a knock on her door. She hasn't even had the time to process the entire message yet, and Lauren's already– she's _here_? Oh, God–

"Okay, Mila, you've got this. I'll just leave y'all alone and make myself some food. I'm starving, anyway." She gets up from the couch and drags Camila along. Once they're standing, she hugs the lost girl and disappears into the kitchen. With a, "More popcorn next time!" thrown over her shoulder, she closes the door.

And Camila– hears another knock. Okay. She _can_ do this.

Yeah, she can. She slowly walks to the door and opens it. Not thinking too much about it means she can't panic. Freak out. Faint. So– immediately after opening the door, she blurts out, "How did you–"

"Get your number?" Lauren interrupts her, smiling widely.

A nod. She can't do more right now.

"I talked to Normani. Apparently, she's seeing Ally and Dinah or something. Maybe you know about that. I mean, you definitely know about that," Lauren rambles.

Camila _doesn't_ know about that, and she swears she's going to have to have a talk about that with Dinah, but she lets her– lets Lauren continue.

"Dinah _is_ your best friend now, right?"

Which is why she should have told Camila about–

"Anyway, Dinah gave Normani your number and she– it's all kind of a mess, really. Um– can we– can we talk about that later?"

"I–" Why hasn't her  _friend_ told her about any of this? About giving Normani her number, about  _seeing_ Normani –  _and_ Ally – and why– "yeah, sure. I just– I'm sorry but– how did you know what happened on screen if you were on your way here? I don't want to be asking all these questions but– I'm just so confused right now, Lauren." Confused is one way to put it. _Completely lost_ would be another. The correct one, actually.

"Oh, that…" Lauren trails off, embarrassed. "I watched it on my phone while I was outside."

"You watched TV walking here?" Camila asks incredulously. If _she_ ever did a stunt like that, she'd trip, like, five times a minute. But she _didn't_ have to do it, no, her–

"I had to make sure to get the perfect time to text you."

Okay, that's cheesy. Too cheesy. Camila can't help but laugh. "You're a dork." This is all so surreal. How is _any_ of this happening? How has _anything_ happened over the past few weeks? Why is everything a blur? God, she can feel a headache form. So she interrupts her own thoughts before they escalate again, and says, "I would never have pegged you as such a romantic." It's honest, and people like honesty, right?

"Yeah, well I'm hoping you'll go on a date with this romantic dork." Is Lauren  _nervous_? She does seem to be, fidgeting and all– "so... will you?" Okay, yeah, she's nervous. 

Nervous Lauren is  _cute_ , Camila immediately decides. She giggles. "You're so cute."  _Honesty. Always good_. "Hey, I'm sure you know my answer."

Instead of saying anything right away, Lauren simply leans down and gives Camila a peck on the lips. Then whispers, "Maybe I do. But I want to hear you say it, Camila Cabello."

Right now, the smiles on both women's faces couldn't be any wider. Couldn't be any brighter. They're happy,  _really_  happy, and they  _know_  everything's going to be fine.  _They_ 're going to be fine. They're free. Free from the show. Don't have to follow instructions anymore. Don't have to appeal to an audience. Or to Zayn. They can do whatever they want. Without cameras, without being constantly judged by everyone around them. They can be themselves. They can be  _in love_. (Or whatever the hell this  _thing_  between them is, or whatever it could potentially turn into–)  They can  _show it_. So, really, for Camila, the only thing left to say is, "Alright, Lauren Jauregui.  _I'll date you_." It's a promise, and they seal it with a kiss. 

And, okay, they've kissed before but–  _this_? This is different. Because  _this_  marks their finally crossing the finish line after a race full of unexpected events; a race that they, at some points, didn't think would  _ever_  have an end to it. But it  _does_ have an end. 

 _This_  is it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok y'all have probably noticed that the chap count went from 10 to 12. i'm just telling you right away that the last 2 parts aren't 'chapters' per se. you'll see about that
> 
> but ya i love all of you!!!! those who've read, those who've left kudos, those who've commented, those who've bookmarked this fic.....i love every. single. one. of you.


	11. CHAPTER 10 || finale (alternate version)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was sad and i wrote an angsty ending because does anything ever actually go well???? the answer is no. no it does not. and since camila is a wreck anyway why not make her suffer more right lol

Later that night, she inevitably stands in front of Zayn. The two other girls are with her, of course, and Camila… has to watch them get their roses.

Three girls, two roses.

She doesn't get one. For very obvious reasons.

In all honesty, what'd she think would happen when she decided to reject Zayn simply by saying, "I can't do this"? It's not exactly elaborate, and if _she_ were the bachelor – or the bachelorette – she wouldn't appreciate that kind of vagueness, either. Like, at all.

So yeah, _no_ , she _doesn't_ get a rose.

It goes like this: everyone pities her, and she just walks off. Because she doesn't need that. She feels sorry for herself enough already. All the time, actually. Doesn't need everyone around her do it, too.

Given the fact that every candidate who gets kicked out always gets a few minutes to themselves before having to give interviews, no cameras follow her. Yet. And as she takes the small path to the beach, she realizes she's not annoyed. Or sad. Or angry. Not right now. Not in the slightest. Even though all of those would be acceptable emotions after what's happened. But… she's not even disappointed. Just empty.

She didn't get a rose. Oh, well. She never even– what _did_ she want?

Something inside of her immediately whispers _Lauren_ , which isn't exactly a great help. Camila just rolls her eyes. As if _that_ would ever–

God, what a mess. _She_ 's made a mess. Again. Because of course she has. She never wanted to be on the show in the first place. She doesn't– she rolls her eyes again. It's ridiculous. Everything is. _She_ is.

Sitting down on the sand as soon as she's reached it, she puts her elbows on her thighs. Rests her head in her hands. Focuses on the flickering torches that have been placed next to the wooden paths around her. Even with this little light, the lounge in the middle of the beach is visible. Only faintly, but visible.

 _Damn_ , that first night. Every time she sees the goddamn place, she's reminded of it.

Had her mother not applied in her place, she wouldn't have been there. Wouldn't have seen or met Lauren. She wouldn't have said _no_ to the bachelor, wouldn't be sitting here thinking about _Lauren_ instead of getting ready for her interviews.

For God's sake, none of those things should have happened. Should be happening. Why is her life such a mess? Why does she always–

Footsteps.

 _Shit_. Whoever it is, she doesn't want to see them. She quickly wipes at her eyes – which is sort of completely unnecessary because she hasn't even cried, _can't_ cry – and sits as upright as possible, just in case it's the crew or–

 _Lauren_. "Hey, mind if I sit down for a while?" It's unmistakably her voice. Always raspy, always– yeah, of course _she_ 's _got_ to be here right now. Typical.

Camila curses under her breath but replies, "Uh, sure." _Way to go. You just had to say yes_. "I mean– yeah, go ahead." She sighs.

The woman sits down next to her and looks at her. Skeptically.

Camila only glances at her shortly. So she doesn't do anything more stupid. Because she's known for doing stupid things. She _always_ does them. Always screws up. Especially when she looks at Lauren for too long and–

"Is something wrong?"

Okay, wow. _Seriously?_ Now Camila _does_ turn her head toward the older woman. Blinks. She's just been _kicked out_ , so _of course_ she–

Lauren seems to get it. Judging by the way she bites her lip and looks down, ashamed. "Oh." Clears her throat. "Sorry. I didn't–" Again. "Yeah, sorry." Her second _sorry_ – it's barely a whisper.

Camila just shakes her head. "I should've known I wouldn't make it." She lets out a bitter laugh. Bitterer than the stupid wine she had a few weeks ago. Which says a _lot_. Because– that wine? Very, _very_ bitter.

"Don't say that. You're great."

It's not true, but Camila doesn't object. Instead, silence follows. For a few moments, neither of them says anything.

"I only did all of this because of a bet," Lauren finally admits. "I was drunk, one thing led to another, and then there I was, dared to apply. By my _friends_."

A small smile graces Camila's features at the story. At any other time, she would laugh, but right now, she's just feeling so _weird_ and _empty_ that– yeah, a smile is enough. Anything else would be too much work.

"And here I am, I guess," the older woman finishes awkwardly.

Another few quiet seconds follow.

"My mom applied for me. Coming here was never _my_ idea either." She feels Lauren look at her. God, she hates when Lauren looks at her. It's so– it makes her feel funny, uncomfortable, and– she always talks too much and screws up– alright, well, she just needs to distract herself, right? From the thought that Lauren's staring. Waiting for her to go on and– _talk_. Talk. Yeah, talking is good. Maybe. Hopefully. Just not too much. She takes a deep breath. "I– she thought it would be great for me to, you know, go out there. Meet people. Find…" She clears her throat, and continues, "She wanted me to find a boyfriend." Camila can practically feel Lauren's eyebrows raise. It's uncanny.

"And she thought the _Bachelor_ would be the way? I mean, you can't even find friends here. It's a mess." She laughs.

Camila's mind immediately screams _Dinah_. She misses her. She _has_ become her friend. Just like Ally. Normani, too, maybe. But– yeah, the woman has a point. The Bachelor isn't exactly a TV show known for its friendly contestants. Or, well, at least not for the contestants being friendly towards _each_ _other_. Maybe she and her now-friends are a rare exception. Yeah. Probably. "Um– she meant well, I guess. Not that I'm defending her, I hated the idea and it– right now, it's not really–" she knits her eyebrows, zones out for a second– "I did find friends." It sounds hollow. Also, what even was her point to begin with?

"Right, Dinah." Lauren hums in acknowledgment. "Well, I mean, I did end up liking some people, too, I guess. However, the situation isn't ideal. Not at all." A chuckle.

Camila snaps back into reality. She doesn't know why, but she has the urge to look at her ex-competitor now. Maybe to see her smile one last time. Just– the way she said that she likes people from here, too? There– could it maybe, possibly have meant something? Could Lauren have meant her? God. Camila's breath hitches as she looks into her object of affection's green eyes. _So_ green. She still has no idea how anyone can have such beautiful eyes. Such beautiful green eyes.

Camila doesn't know _why_ it happens. All she knows is she starts leaning in, and she doesn't mean for– she doesn't even _want_ to– okay, so, she does, kind of, but she's not sure if Lauren– and it– this is going to blow up in her face but she can't stop herself from leaning in further. So she just– _does_ –

Until–

"I'm sorry, I can't do this."

–Lauren gets up, quickly, as if she's in a hurry to be somewhere – _yeah, she has somewhere to be:_ _away from you_ , Camila's brain screams – and leaves.

Camila blinks. She doesn't move. _Can't_ move. Just looks at the spot Lauren sat in until a few seconds ago. In the distance, the woman's high heels click on the concrete as she's making her way towards the mansion. Or maybe she's going back to see Zayn. Or Perrie. It's not important, anyway. What matters is that she's _gone_. She's left. Just like that.

 _Fuck_. Camila knew she'd screw up. Why'd she– God, her heart rate was just about to go back to normal, but now she's feeling a little – a _lot_ – overwhelmed again. Because she's thinking about the almost kiss. It was too much. Too goddamn much. Just– why'd she even lean in in the first place?

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid_.

She should have known Lauren doesn't feel the same. Has never felt the same. Wouldn't. Not someone like her. Beautiful women– people– never fall for people like Camila. It was just flirting. Harmless flirting. Nothing else. Her description of the people she likes? A harmless coincidence. Nothing more than that. All harmless. _So_ harmless. Nobody got hurt. Nobody. Camila finally turns her head so she's looking at the ocean. Her stomach contracts painfully. _Harmless_. Or maybe not. Why is this happening to her?

She goes on a show to meet a handsome boy – even if it's not one hundred percent voluntary – and ends up not liking him in the slightest. She then makes it to the semifinal of said show but leaves prematurely because she just _had_ to go out there and fall for another contestant. She finds great friends, only to find out they live on the other side of the country.

It's just Camila's luck. Tears run down her cheek suddenly. Hot tears, sticky tears, not at all _harmless_ tears. Salty tears that won't stop falling once Camila has started crying. So she lies down onto the sand. She just needs to close her eyes for a few seconds. Maybe it'll calm her down. She can only hope. Her clothes are going to get all sandy but, in all honesty, that's the last thing she cares about right now. What her clothes look like, what her face looks like– it's– it's all _whatever_. She _always_  looks horrible, anyway, so it's not going to make much of a difference, really. She laughs bitterly through her tears.

Yeah, even though the cameras will be here soon, and she's going to have to go through that whole 'You left and now you're going to tell us what you plan on doing, darling…' procedure – she really, absolutely doesn't care. All she cared about in the damn weeks she spent here was Lauren. And now she's gone, and Camila's dignity is gone – because what the hell kind of goodbye is an almost kiss that one party doesn't want? – and she's never going to see her again to apologize for that mess she made and– _fuck_. She groans loudly as her fists clench involuntarily.

 _Such a screw-up_.

Except she can't really tell the interviewers that. Even she realizes that it sounds a little _too_ self-deprecating. Is a little over the top. Instead, when they ask how she's doing, she sarcastically replies, "Great, I am _just_ great."

They don't have any more questions after that.

And neither does she. Her only concern had been to finally get behind what Lauren's feelings towards her were. That's all she wanted to clear up while still on set, and she _definitely_ knows all she needs to know now.

She huffs as she watches the crew leave and walks back to the mansion, ready to pack her stuff right away. She's leaving tomorrow, and she doesn't ever want to look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i almost like this more than the actual ending because it's more realistic but that's just my depressed ass self speaking


	12. CHAPTER 0 || lauren

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> basically, this was requested by someone on wattpad and i couldn't stop thinking about the damn idea.
> 
> catch me not being able to let go lmao

Lauren isn't sure when it starts, exactly, but she does know as soon as she realizes it that she's screwed. Developing a crush on a fellow contestant on a show like _the Bachelor_ isn't just a really bad idea, it's something you can neither show nor admit. Ever. Seriously, the only thing it's good for is bringing you misery. It doesn't get you anywhere, it doesn't lead anywhere, it's just really, really– it's _bad_.

It's not that she's never been into another woman before – she definitely has, she actually identifies as bisexual, and having come out recently kind of made her even prouder – but the fact that, on the Bachelor, you're supposed to be into one person, and one person only.

In this case, this year, this season, it's Zayn Malik. But, as soon as she sees him, she _knows_ he couldn't compare to who he introduces as Camila Cabello.

Okay, so, maybe she's _kind of_ sure when it starts. But it's embarrassing to admit that she starts falling for _her_ as soon as she lays eyes on her for the first time. It's ridiculous, it's most probably unprecedented, and just– unexpected. Yeah, that's– a good expression.

So, yup, that second night on set, she realizes it's going to be a long few weeks. Lots and lots of weeks which are going to be spent trying to keep her crush at bay.

Oh, and she _also_ realizes that she's screwed. Plain and simple.

The only way out of this crush would be to focus on Zayn, but Zayn can't even begin to compete with Camila, and it'd be a waste of time trying to convince herself to like him. It's not like she's going to get through to the last round, anyway. She won't ever have to think of a way to get out of the show, Zayn is going to kick her out soon and that's that. The reason why she's here is a drunk bet. And a drunk bet isn't going to give her a ticket to the finale of the Bachelor. That'd just be– nah. It won't happen.

She stays silent, only talks to one Normani Kordei every now and then, and hopes she kind of gets drowned out in the crowd.

Yeah, well... that doesn't happen. Apparently, Zayn finds her mysterious and she just kind of slips through. From round to round.

God, how she wishes she could stop thinking about this crush. See, staying silent means thinking, so Lauren does that a lot. And, boy, she just cannot get out of this 'having a thing for a fellow contestant' thing. Which is _so_ random. It's only been a few weeks, and it's not even like she talks to the woman a lot.

Camila doesn't make it easy for her, though. Like– even if they don't talk... Lauren sees her. Maybe she _stares_ , too. Because the woman's always wearing those incredibly figure-hugging outfits, her makeup's on point, and, _God_ , that jawline–

Yeah, she thinks about her. The entire time. When she's with her, when she's not there...

 _Zayn who_?

She's in too deep, _fuck_ , and that's going to hurt. Sooner or later. Because, one, she's sure Camila is going to make it far in the competition, maybe she's even going to end up dating Zayn – shit, she doesn't even remotely want to go there, doesn't want to waste a thought to that possibility, not even with all the time she has to think – and two, Lauren's not great at hiding her feelings. Something tells her she's going to slip up, and Camila might freak out. But, hey, maybe it's all going to be fun after all.

It turns out it's not fun in the slightest.

Especially not when she overhears Camila – of course it has to be her – say that she doesn't want any _agenda_ pushed on her and– other things she thought she was past having to hear. She cries herself to sleep that night because not only is her object of affection basically grossed out by anyone attracted to women, but she's also been dumped right back into reality when all she wanted was to dream a little about an alternate universe where she ends up getting the girl. Where they leave the show together and ride into the sunset.

Well, that's certainly not going to happen now.

Except Camila apologizes not long afterwards, and Lauren is so touched by her speech that she's right back to where she started. She forgives Camila – God, why is she like this? – and, well, the night turns into the best she has had in weeks, months even, and it's definitely a hundred times better than any other interaction she's had on this goddamn show so far. They even hold hands.

At some point, something inside of her realizes that, maybe, somehow, the spark she has in her might ignite something in Camila, too. It might be wishful thinking, but Lauren is lost – _screwed_ – anyway, so what's one more tiny dream?

She smiles when they cuddle on the patio, she smiles when, later that night, she goes back into her room, she smiles while she's getting ready for bed, she smiles in her sleep. She wakes up smiling the following morning, and the grin doesn't leave her lips all week.

Admittedly, she gets even more excited when Zayn announces they're going to do the whole family thing together. It's a good idea, she thinks, with their families basically living across the street from each other and being Cuban, too... and, yeah, then there's the whole Camila being there thing. She bites her lip a lot in anticipation the days before they're flying to Miami. And... while they're home. And in front of the restaurant. And during dinner. She keeps looking over at Camila – beautiful, amazing Camila with the prettiest eyes and softest hair she's ever seen – who– who looks irritated. Lauren ignores the racing heart that's been preventing her from getting too close to her all night, gets over herself, even talks to her. They drink together, in the end.

It's great, they're sort of carefree – at least Lauren is – but, sadly, nothing else happens between them. (Damn, why is she always thinking anything may happen? It's one of the last rounds, Camila probably _wants_ Zayn, unlike her bi ass–) Still, drinking together is a good start. Plus, Camila drinking wine? Yeah, she got to witness that. It's– God, so sexy. She didn't know someone could be hot drinking but apparently...

God, she really is screwed.

Especially having made it this far. What if she _does_ get more roses? That'd be frustrating. Because that'd mean she'd have to finally start thinking of a tactic to get out of the show in an emergency. The emergency being making it to the finale somehow.

Hint: she does get more roses. Which is kind of shit, if she's being honest. Because not only does she have zero interest in Zayn but Camila is still there, too, and _she_ –

Oh, boy. So she realizes exactly what is going on when the crew tells her she's got to get ready for her one-on-one date with Zayn. A date. With Zayn. Where she sure as hell can't not talk the whole time, and she can't spend the hour or hours thinking about Camila.

She kind of does, anyway. It's Camila who she thinks of when it dawns on her that this date might have to end with a kiss. With Zayn. Instead of kissing _him_ , she'd much rather kiss Camila. God, even now, when its intimate, when its only her and Zayn and a few dozen candles, even right now Camila is the only thing on her mind.

It's more than a crush. It's a lot more than that, and she knows she can't do this. Maybe keep up pretenses for a few more days, but it's got to stop. Everything does.

She's relieved when Zayn tells her he won't kiss her because he's saving it for something even more special, but at the same time, she feels a little bad. A tiny bit. Because, well, unlike him, she knows she's going to have to reject him at some point.

(It's fairly obvious he's attracted to her now. _Fucking hell_. That one time someone's into you and you still pick the unattainable one. Unrequited love? Yes, please.

God, what a mood.)

When Camila gets kicked out, she's shocked. Sad. Relieved. Frustrated. She has a whole range of emotions she goes through, basically feels every emotion there is.

A rollercoaster ride ain't got anything on her, that's for sure.

She doesn't have to worry about her dating Zayn anymore, but at the same time, _she_ has to worry about having to do something extremely extra in front of the entire nation to blow him off in the end. Wow. Also, and more importantly, she's not going to see Camila again.

Unless she does something. Comes up with a plan.

The plan starts forming in her brain the second Camila and she kiss on that beach. How she gets there, she has no idea. How it starts, she has no idea. How she got so lucky to have Camila reciprocate her feelings – and not even noticing in the weeks, even after, thinking back, basically admitting her own and basically receiving a confession back that day at the pool – she absolutely doesn't know. It's all blurry. Camila's lips feel so good, they're all soft and she's so gentle and she feels so good in Lauren's arms that, at that moment, nothing else seems to matter. Everything else is a different world. Only the fireworks count, the sparks becoming flames in between their bodies, their mouths, their tongues.

That moment is all she thinks about when she's in front of Zayn on finale day. And _that_ has her breaking down, falling down on her knees in front of him, Perrie, the cameras. Oh, and only, like, a million people in front of their TVs, watching. Except– she doesn't care. She wants to get out of here, she needs Camila, not the last goddamn rose he has to offer, and she–

She tells them, everyone, it's not fair, and with that, she's gone. She can't leave until the next day, obviously, but– even though it leaves her alone with her messy thoughts, it's kind of a good thing, too. She has time to _sort out_ these thoughts.

On the plane, she comes up with the perfect way to execute the plan she's been working on since the night on the beach.

God, that still makes her smile. Camila's happy smile, the way she touched her lips after the kiss, like she couldn't quite believe it had happened...

She shakes her head. Tells herself she can do it, Camila feels the same, it's alright.

She gets off the plane with a grin.

A grin that doesn't really go away until the day the finale airs on TV, and _then_ it only does go away because it's replaced by a bigger one at the end of it – she finally, after what feels like a year-long journey, gets to date Camila Cabello.

Admittedly, getting her friend to annoy _her_ friend – girlfriend, as it turns out – into getting her Camila's number, then getting her parents to give her her _address_ , and finally, watching TV on a phone solely to get the timing of her texting right is, well, cheesy – some might call it stalker-ish – but–

After the initial confusion, Camila definitely doesn't mind – in fact, she's flattered – and her _old_ perfect plan earns her something _new_ to plan.

Lunch.

Lunch turns into dinner, dinner turns into dinner _and_ breakfast, and _that_ turns into lunch again. Soon after that, Lauren gets to call Camila hers.

The grin gets bigger and bigger every day, doesn't seem to stop growing, just like her love for Camila.

Camila keeps joking about how weird it is that her face hasn't split in two yet.

"You're the reason," Lauren says, caressing her cheek. God, those brown eyes...

"How so?" Camila asks.

"You keep me together."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ik this entire thing was a huge MESS so thanks^2 for reading


	13. BONUS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and finally, the last last last part. :)

It's a nice Saturday afternoon.

People are outside, people are at the park with their children, people ride their bikes, people go for walks.

People who aren't Camila and Lauren. 

The couple is sitting on the couch in Camila's flat, catching up on the past few weeks' _Bachelor_ episodes. Oh, and they're also eating cookies. Lots of them.

Just as she's taken her next bite, Camila mysteriously asks, "Remember Chelsea?"

"Huh?" Lauren absentmindedly makes from behind her. 

"Chelsea Briggs. You know, last year's commentator. The one who was such a mystery. We never knew what she looked like, only ever knew what her voice sounded like. I mean... obviously." 

"Oh, her," Lauren acknowledges with a hum. She pushes Camila off for a second, grabs another cookie for herself, and leans back against the headrest. "Yeah, I remember."

"I googled her. Ended up following her on Instagram. She's, like, super gorgeous!" Camila exclaims. But once she realizes how it must sound to Lauren, she continues, chuckling, "But that's not the point. The point is– I started talking to her."

Okay, that's not much better. She swears Lauren raises all of her eyebrows. "You sound a little too excited about that," her girlfriend deadpans, then soundly takes another chunk off of the baked good.

Whoops. Alright, maybe it would be a good idea to– "No! No, that's not my point, Lo," she assures. Turns her head and looks at Lauren as well as the angle they sit in allows, and pointedly – yet affectionately – rolls her eyes. Turns back around and sinks down on Lauren's chest. "The point is– apparently, she was rooting for us the entire time. Like, she saw some of the footage the audience didn't get to see, and she told me that, the entire time, she was secretly and against all odds hoping we'd somehow get together," she explains excitedly, "she said we were cute together and all."

Camila can hear the smile in Lauren's voice when she says, "No way. Shut up."

"Seriously!" Camila retorts and shifts on the couch to be able to look at the older woman for real now. "I'm telling you, Chelsea Briggs's OTP was Camren. From the beginning." She nudges her.

" _Camren_? What kind of- that's just– oh, my God." Lauren's hands – now empty – shoot up to cover her face. Hide her blush. "We weren't as subtle as we thought. About our crushes, that is."

"No," Camila says, grinning, "first Dinah and her whole gang find out, now I come to know that Chelsea knew, too. Or, well, hoped to know. It's safe to say now that we _really_ weren't subtle. And, shit, I didn't even actually _know_ what was going on with me."

They look at each other and burst out laughing. It's loud, and they absolutely can't help it. In retrospect, it's all way too funny.

"You know what else Chelsea told me?" Camila rhetorically asks after a while once they've calmed down, "She told me Perrie and Zayn broke up, like, a month after the finale." Biting her lip, Camila waits for Lauren to ask why. This is going to be _good_.

"Yeah, why?" 

"She–" Camila snorts– "she realized she liked her best friend Jade. In _that_ way." She sees Lauren's eyes grow twice their size. "They started dating, like, a week later. Apparently, they'd kind of had a thing for each other for a while." Camila can't contain anything anymore. She throws her head back. Laughter fills the room again. Her own explanation, the thought of _it_ , plus Lauren's expression– it's too goddamn much for her.

"No fucking way," her girlfriend repeats over and over again. "I can't believe that whole season was basically just a lesbian shitshow. I mean, come on. Dinah, Ally, and Normani are dating, Perrie is dating her best friend – her best _female_ friend – and you and I–" She shakes her head incredulously. " _No fucking way_."

"Well," Camila says thoughtfully, "it's just all very–"

"If you say 'unexpected' I'm going to kill you," Lauren threatens with her eyebrows raised and her index finger pointed at her girlfriend.

Camila presses her lips together. Can barely hold back when she finishes with, "–surprising." The second the word has left her mouth, she gets up and runs out of the room.

"Camila Cabello!" Lauren yells. She doesn't get up from the couch, though, just sits there. Exasperated, incredulous. Shakes her head.

"That's me," the woman almost shyly says as she peeks into the living room. "You know what, though?" And– a grin replaces the coy smile. She bites her lip again.

"What?"

"I think _your_  last name would suit me better." With that, she runs off again, giggling.

"You did not just– oh, my God." Lauren honestly doesn't know what to say to that. Like, she can't believe Camila has basically just proposed to her, in such a casual way, so very _Camila_ , and she–

–hears her yell, "Unexpected, isn't it?" from the bedroom.

"God, I hate you."

"No, you don't," Camila says as she enters the living room again.

"Yes, well, right now I–" Lauren looks up. She's about to sigh, about to roll her eyes, but– "oh, boy."

Camila comes closer to the couch. She's smirking. "Like what you see?" she teases.

Lingerie. Great lingerie. Camila's wearing  _really_  great lingerie, and she looks hot as  _hell_  in black lace, and that thong– "Wow," Lauren says, dumbfounded, because she really,  _honestly_  can't think of anything else right now. She did not exactly think her girlfriend would change, let alone into something like this, while they're– kind of, sort of arguing– but not really, and– "I mean, damn, I– you– yeah. I do."

"Mhm, that's what I thought." With that, Camila straddles Lauren and leans in to take her lower lip between her teeth. Draws back. Only for a second, however. Then, she kisses her lightly.

 _What a tease._ Lauren lets out a low moan. "Okay, so, this  _is_  unexpected."

"Told you."

"Shut up and–" Lauren moans as Camila grinds down into her– " _fuck_."

"I will, soon." The younger woman leans in again to bite her neck playfully. "Let's take this to the bedroom."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you don't mind the lil edit i ended the fic with, it seemed appropriate :)
> 
> alright, so.... damn. it's been a riiiiide!!!!! i'm so freaking happy about how much y'all enjoyed this fic. i loved _all_ of your comments, every single one, and i'm obviously all ahhhhh about the amount of kudos i got, too. i mean... more than 250. wow. that's, like, huge. so to everyone who's liked this and commented on it: thank you so, so, so much. it means more to me than you'll ever know. whenever i saw i'd gotten a comment i immediately smiled and that smile always lasted because, oh my god, someone is reading my fic and taking the time to tell me that they are and???? how much they like it?? whoa. it's so incredible. almost unreal. also, when shit got bad, i really appreciated how some of you told me it's ok to just...stop and take some time. to take care of myself. your understanding of the situation meant a lot, too. really. you never pressured me, always said the right things. 
> 
> thanks again to everyone who read this, who left kudos or comments, who subscribed. i can't express how grateful i am. 
> 
> i love you!
> 
> \- franzi


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